


Paper Sails

by mega_watzz



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Mind Manipulation, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Thanos is a dick, Thanos takes Peter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2020-04-23 03:46:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 34,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19142905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mega_watzz/pseuds/mega_watzz
Summary: He scratched desperately at the hand pinning his throat, to no avail. What made him fight harder was that the grip wasn’t constricting - merely a method of holding him still as he was examined. The measured gaze made his skin crawl, and the unreadable expression in the piercing eyes was definitely not good news whatever it meant. Without his mask, Peter felt even more like a bug under a microscope; the barrier that made him Spiderman was gone, leaving only the unshielded Peter Parker.--Or: During the battle on Titan, Thanos sees potential in Peter and takes him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Tbh I wrote most of the initial draft whilst on the train home a little tipsy from a christmas themed June barbecue. It has since been soberly edited.  
> I also haven't written fanfic in yeeaarrs, the last time being in my early teens – now I'm in my 20s and hopefully a better writer, but who knows.

_Bug lady, safe - muscly alien dude, safe - Footloose guy, safe-_

One by one, Peter reached for the Guardians, stringing them up out of harm's way; flaming meteors and chunks of falling rock surrounded them in a seemingly endless rain - even his mask was having difficulty filtering out the dust and ash that was steadily obscuring his vision.

_Where the hell were Tony and the Wizard?_

The spider-legs of his suit - which he still couldn’t decide were either creepy or awesome - were gripping tightly to what he assumed were the remains of the space donut, but he didn’t care to find out for sure, as it worked as a high vantage point to scan the battleground. There was so much destruction _everywhere_. Beams of smouldering metal crashed to the ground like crumbling obelisks, and he could feel a familiar tightness in his chest as he tried desperately not to think about it’s weight crushing him-

He closed his eyes. Inhaled a shaky breath, in through the nose, out through the mouth.

Not now.

This was too important.

Mr Stark was somewhere out there, and by the sounds emanating from the clearing ahead, the battle was far from over. Peter checked on the webbed Guardians for the last time, they seemed a while from waking but shouldn’t be at risk for the time being, and swung towards the noise of battle. He landed as softly as he could, heeding the warning of his continuously prickling spider-sense, and crept with as much haste as he could without giving away his advantage of surprise.

The scene before him made his heart stop.

The three figures were in varying degrees of health; Dr Strange was on the ground, using his remaining strength to hold himself upright, leaning on the rock-face behind him, watching the proceedings with sorrowful, exhausted eyes. Tony was clearly holding onto the last scraps of his energy in vain – having descended to the floor, his bare hand was applying pressure to a stream of blood flowing from his side-

_Oh god- no, no, no, no, no-_

To Peter’s horror, Thanos towered over them, gauntlet held aloft, and five glinting gems reflecting the waning light of the sun.

He froze. _Five._

The world slowed to a stand still. All Peter could do was watch as their enemy savoured his victory, examining the new prize as it's power coursed through him. 

“One to go.”

The statement was the spark that ignited the fire of anger and fear that rose inside him, overpowering any caution he had like a tidal wave. Instinct fuelled his path through the rocks and debris, sprinting full pelt and not stopping until his arms circled Tony’s shoulders - doing his best to avoid the blood coursing from the stab wound - and, the suit legs curled around them like a protective shell, rolled them both out of Thanos' shadow. His momentum brought them skidding a few yards away, covered in dust and blood, his heart pounding hard in his chest and both his and Tony’s breathing ragged.

“M-Mr Stark, are you alright?”

At any other time he would have slapped himself because of how dumb that question was.

The other man was _clearly not alright_ \- having apparently lost the ability to keep standing, he’d remained on the floor, but had pushed through the pain into a kneel; what little remained of the Iron Man suit seemed to be shifting as the nanites were redirected to cover Tony’s wound that was still seeping scarlet onto the dusty ground.

"Kid... Go- get out of here, now-" a gut wrenching cough cut him off, a trail of blood trickling from his mouth to match bloodshot eyes. Peter took only a moment to look into his mentor’s eyes - which he didn’t notice before now looked remarkably like his own - before he turned towards the heavy footsteps he could hear approaching from behind.

The calm, contemplative expression on Thanos’ face was somehow even more terrifying than the fury he’d shown during the battle.

Peter tried to keep his breathing steady - knowing full well that he was the last Avenger standing. His shaking breath slowed to a measured pace, knowing all eyes – and all hope – was on him at that moment. He had to try, he owed his mentor that much. The amount of times Tony had been there for him, helped him, _saved him_ , was beyond counting - and it was time Peter returned the favour.

Quick as a whip, he shot a series of webs in succession, all aimed at the gauntlet in hopes that it would at least buy him a few seconds before Thanos could use it.

It was futile.

Peter managed to dodge one of the hits sent his way, but a large hand gripped one of the metal legs still arched around him protectively and pulled him off balance. With a terrible crunching sound, it was ripped from the suit in a shower of sparks and splintered metal. In a single movement he was thrown onto his back, the lenses of the suit dilating rapidly as he squinted into the sun temporarily blinding him. A silhouette cut through the light, followed by a hand with at least double Peter's strength that grasped the top of his head, tearing his mask apart and taking quite a large portion of hair with it. Eyes watering with pain, he attempted another roll but was halted by the unyielding hand now anchoring him to the ground.

“You have strength - for a child.”

He scratched desperately at the hand pinning his throat, to no avail. What made him fight harder was that the grip wasn’t constricting - merely a method of holding him still as he was _examined_. The measured gaze made his skin crawl, and the unreadable expression in the piercing eyes was definitely not good news whatever it meant. Without his mask, Peter felt even more like a bug under a microscope; the barrier that made him Spiderman was gone, leaving only the unshielded Peter Parker.

“You are different from the others.” Thanos' tone remained calm and even, as if the prior battle hadn’t effected him whatsoever. “What are you?”

He stayed resolutely silent. He wouldn’t give this monster the satisfaction.

The slight frown in response felt like ice down Peter's spine, and he renewed his efforts to free himself even as the grip on him tightened and he was lifted from the ground. His brain was working a mile a minute, trying to come up with _any_ solution – his hands were now occupied with pushing at the inexorable grip in an attempt to stave off suffocation.

“Think of this as a trade, Stark. You killed one of my children, now I’m taking yours.”

His heart stopped. This couldn't be happening- just this morning he was on the bus, chatting with Ned about random topics, with MJ in the seat behind them pretending she wasn't listening to their conversation... It all seemed so trivial and unimportant now. But he wished with all his heart he could just go back to that moment and just _stayed on the bus._

“You should be honoured - with me he’ll do great things, maintaining order in a grateful universe.”

Peter barely heard Tony's yell before he was engulfed in blue light. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit, I am so overwhelmed by the awesome response this fic got! :D thanks to all who commented, feedback means the world to me, and I’m so glad people want me to continue - and so far I’ve planned out most of the fic,and duuuuuudes I am hyped   
> Sorry this took so long, tbh I completely rewrote the entire thing – and for the first chapter I was working on it for a good few weeks, so this is the fastest I've ever written something  
> Here we go! 

It was a long time before anyone spoke. The dust had long since settled, and Stephen Strange had brought himself shakily and slowly to his feet; wary of any signs of concussion, he took the few yards between him and Tony with careful precision - the battle had no doubt taken a toll on them all, and it would be arrogant to think he would be an exception.

In the distance, he could vaguely hear the Guardians gathering themselves, checking for injuries and spouting speculation about what they missed.

Stark was still staring at the spot Thanos had vanished with the boy. The nanites of his suit were still rippling, circulating around the wound that the man himself seemed to have forgotten about. His expression was unnervingly blank – the only emotion visibly shown being the searing wrath in his eyes.

“Why didn’t you do anything?”

It was barely a whisper, but in the quiet, barren landscape of Titan he heard it clear as day. He paused in his tracks – he knew that nothing could stop Stark's fury at this point, but he still needed to make him  _understand_.

“You and your fucking ‘infinite wisdom’ -  _Y_ ou knew this would happen.”

“I knew this  _could_  happen, there was no certainty-“

“Bullshit.”

Stark turned away, rising shakily to his feet, and walking towards where the torn remains of a mask lay, the scarlet almost completely obscured by dust and rubble.

Out of all he'd seen whilst using the Time Stone, this made things infinitely more complicated – but it also gave Stark  _motivation_. Stephen knew very little of the relationship the man and boy shared, but the possible futures showed that it was imperative for the events to come.

He just hoped that this was the timeline that Peter Parker survived.

 

* * *

 

The room was dim, only just light enough for Peter to see the door that had remained impenetrable despite his best efforts; No matter how much he hit, it had remained unmarked and unaffected. He’d tried finding a lock, hinges, or any type of electrical panel - but there was nothing in the room but four blank metal walls lined with small lights near the ceiling. Climbing up to try and pry the lights out in an attempt to reach the wiring proved useless as well, only resulting in sore fingertips and substantially less energy than before.

When he'd first been pushed into the small cell – he could have been there for hours, but his sense of time had abandoned him a while ago – he had reflexively wanted to put as much distance between him and Thanos as possible, inadvertently moving further into the room. Looking back in retrospect, it was probably not the best idea he'd ever had - but facing his captor head-on seemed to be the only way of regaining any control of his situation despite looking directly into the measured expression being the very last thing he wanted to do.

_It was what Tony would have done._

In fact, his mentor probably would have spouted some sarcastic rebuttal – probably a quip about the room's décor – but facing him with his head high was just about all Peter could manage at that moment.

“Once I have the last stone, I will return. Then we shall-”

“You're not going to win.”

The words were out his mouth before he could reconsider them, his heart hammering fast against his ribs and adrenaline clouding his mental restraint. His gut twisted into knots when Thanos smirked in response.

“You have a lot to learn, young one.”

There was a brief pause along with a slight narrowing of his eyes – a moment of consideration that Peter couldn't begin to comprehend - before he turned and exited back through the doorway, letting it slide closed, leaving him in the semi-darkness.

Once his escape attempts had been exhausted, he surveyed the state of his suit – what remained of it anyway; his mask was long gone along with any chance of contacting the others, and a smouldering tear across his back marked where one of the metal legs had been unceremoniously ripped from him with the ease of pulling wings off an insect. Luckily, that seemed to be the extent of the damage. His web shooters were in working order, although they too seemed to be of no help _getting out_. The entire situation seemed orchestrated to reinforce his defeat. Leaving him with the web shooters was no doubt a way of letting him know, that even with his weapons that had saved him countless times in the past, they would be of no help.

He leaned back against the cold metal wall – the only productive action he could do was to rest as much as he could. There was no telling when the door would open again, or even if it would at all. A small, pessimistic part of his brain reminded him that _there was a chance that no one would come._ That thought was quickly hoisted to the wayside. He shouldn't be selfish – if Thanos never came back, then it meant _they won_. He would be defeated, half the life in the universe would be saved, and Peter would die happy knowing he helped bring him to an end.  


A noise from outside brought him harshly out of his reverie. He sprung to his feet, no clue at all of _what to do_ ; the room was far too small for an ambush, not to mention that Thanos would be expecting a certain amount of resistance – so the element of surprise was non existent. A flickering ember of hope in his heart wished for the door to burst open to reveal Tony – perhaps accompanied by the Wizard or the Guardians – alive, with a tale of Thanos' defeat and a ship to take him home.

When the door finally opened, the ember was extinguished.

Thanos' silhouette blocked most of the light from the corridor beyond.

This was the hit that destroyed Peter's resolve. His legs completely gave out beneath him, and he slid down the wall behind him.

If Thanos was here, it could only mean one thing.

_They'd lost._

The room seemed smaller than ever – a claustrophobic suffocation pressing around him from all sides, the imposing figure in the doorway a only adding weight to the undeniable truth. His lungs didn't seem to be taking in enough air, what little oxygen they could get burning his throat – his mind stuck on a loop questioning _how it could have happened-_

He didn't even notice when Thanos breached the room's threshold, closing off what little space there was left in the already limited cell.

“It'll become easier. Now the universe is balanced, as it always should have been.”

Peter swung at him as hard as he possibly could.

It didn't make an iota of difference; his arm was caught with ease, and quickly held in a firm grip – not with an intention to harm him, but just enough strength to convey that Thanos was in complete control of the situation. Desperately striking with his other fist, he managed to collide with an armoured shoulder. Agony radiated from the point of impact, and by the alarming snapping sound he wouldn't be surprised if he'd broken his fingers – but at that moment he didn't care; All he wanted to do was to inflict as much _pain_ as he could.

The six stones - gleaming from amidst the now twisted, blackened metal - came alight with a twitch of Thanos' fingers.

A vice-like pressure gripped Peter's entire body; ceasing his fighting, and he couldn't even make himself blink, eyes stuck staring at the monster steadily approaching him.

“You will calm yourself.”

Peter didn't try to hide the hatred that burned in his eyes.

With only a look of marginal disappointment, there was another flash from the stones in his peripheral vision. It took a moment to realise what he had done, but the fresh rush of panic was soon suppressed by a wave of _something_. It was almost indescribable; he could still string thoughts together, but they were... subdued. A fine layer of fog, just clear enough to find a path through but not enough to find clarity. Emotions were still in battle beneath his skin, but couldn't quite reach the surface.

“Come with me.”

As if tethered by unrelenting cords, he could do nothing but follow in Thanos' wake. Multiple times he tried stopping, perhaps in search for an exit he hoped would conveniently materialise, but each time he did his body betrayed him.

He was led down the corridor he caught a glimpse of earlier, the tall ceilings reminiscent of a church or a castle – only with a harsh, metallic cold that seeped into his bones.

The hall beyond was as imposing as it was vast; from what he could surmise by the distant ambient hum, they were certainly on a spaceship – a fact that would have immensely interested Peter, given any other situation – and seeing the grand chair on a raised dais in the centre of the room, he guessed this was the 'throne room' of sorts.

_More of a room to stroke Thanos' ego._

The sight that lay on the opposite side of the room confirmed his theories; the wall was comprised entirely of a gargantuan window, gazing out onto the endless expanse of deep space. He'd overcome the initial shock of _'Holy shit, I'm actually in space'_ during their time on the commandeered Space-Donut, but he didn't think he'd ever get over how terrifyingly boundless it was – he tore his eyes away. It felt like a lot longer than a few hours ago. The sight only emphasised how out of his element he was. There was no way to tell _where_ in the galaxy they were – and even if he did somehow find out, he knew it would be next to impossible to locate Earth.

Rather than taking a seat in the chair as expected, Thanos instead settled on one of the dais stairs. The thought of attempting another escape flitted across his mind, only to be quelled by the power of the gauntlet as a firm, unyielding pressure on his shoulders forced him to follow the beckoning hand that pulled on the invisible strings, and he had no choice but to join him on the cold step.

The inspecting stare had returned, and Peter adamantly looked back.

“Peter... That was what Stark called you.”

Hearing his name said it the composed, at-ease tone was like being immersed in icy water. The well maintained wall separating his two lives was crumbling apart, and he could only sit by and watch. The fact that _Thanos knew his name_ – something even some of the Avengers didn't know...

He focused on keeping his breathing steady. Finding _any_ way out of there would require a clear head, but the unshakable cloud still muffled his mind; try as he might to form any kind of plan, his thoughts became tangled – so muddled that he could only focus on his current circumstance. Peter found his eyes drawn to the gauntlet.

_If he could find a way to get it, use it – even just one of the stones..._

“Superior beings to you have attempted holding the stones, they did not survive and nor would you.”

The blunt candour of the statement was yet another nail in the coffin that was rapidly closing around him.

“There will be a time when this won't be needed.” He examined the formerly burnished metal with a relaxed interest, the burnt gold now melted, warped and seemingly irremovable.

Thanos seemed to take Peter's determined silence in his stride.

“Your skills in battle are admirable, but I sensed... restraint. Stark saw your power, but instead of letting you fulfil your potential, he _held you back_.”

The anger inside reached a boiling point – surfacing from _whatever_ the stone was doing to his mind - and this time he managed to get half way to his feet, fist clenched in preparation for a hit, before the enveloping control of the gauntlet took over, returning him to his place.

Thanos merely continued as if nothing had happened., unphased by the one-sided nature of the conversation

“My other children before you all resisted, and they all learned in time. You have Stark's spirit, but your life before now is done. As I told him, with me you will do great things.”

“ _No._ ”

Peter spoke quietly but resolutely. His mentor's name sparking alight the ember in his chest once more. He would not just roll over like he was expected to – regardless of the apparently unlimited power his enemy possessed.

Villains were supposed to be fuelled by _anger_ and _violence_ , the reserved way Peter was being spoken down to – _like a child –_ was a jarring contradiction. All the villains that he'd faced and heard about prior had been fuelled by their own personal mission – be it money, power, or revenge – but the hero's goal was always the same: keep the bad guy from getting what he wanted. Peter would do the same.

_It was what Tony would have done._

“I wont be another one of your _children_.” The word was laced with venom, Peter's now unwavering eyes – although shining with unshed tears he refused to let fall – fixed on Thanos'.

An almost undecipherable expression passed fleetingly across the latter's face – but still no anger, just ever enduring patience. He rose to his feet, a motion of his hand refastening the invisible force that forced Peter to follow.

“Come, it's time to test what you are capable of.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As much as I wanna rush into the good angsty stuff, it’s gotta start slow for development’s sake - but I promise things will start happening soon :P   
> Tbh I'm not as pleased with this chapter as the first, but now that uni is over I can dedicate more time to it, so just hold on - it'll get better I promise!  
> I’m planning of updating this at least once a week, maybe more - and lemme know what you think!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again people!  
> I am SO sorry for the delay - but this'll be the last time I'll run late cos ya boi's got a schedule now! … also I've got the week off and nothing better to do. 
> 
> The chapter is also longer than the others, so hopefully that makes up for it somewhat :)

The scratching at the door would probably haunt his nightmares for the rest of his life. Sounds of razor sharp claws digging at the metal began to trigger some fight-or-flight response whenever he was taken to the ‘training room’.

_Less of a training room, more like being thrown into a den of lions._

The door in question stood at the end of what could only be described as a pit, behind which dwelt the horrors that Thanos had referred to as the Outriders; With seemingly no mind of their own, the conglomeration of limbs, talons, and teeth held together with dark, cracked skin, fought with a ferocity that was absolutely relentless. It also appeared to be their only purpose, to wait behind the door until it was time to tear something to shreds.

Each fight brought with it more challenges than the last. Sometimes it was a basic one-on-one, as it had been to begin with.

Peter had been unceremoniously thrown into the arena, which was he guessed was around half the length of an Olympic sized pool, he was given only a few seconds before the door opened.

The beast had knocked him down hard to the floor before he could even process what it _was_. The instinctual part of him took over, and he shoved with all his strength – propelling the thing backwards a few metres so he could get a look-

 _Oh god, that's far too many arms_.

Barely a second passed before he had been accosted again, one set of arms colliding with his chest and the nails digging into his shoulder; Peter used it's momentum to his advantage, twisting to the side before the claws could draw blood, sending the creature careening off balance. It had recovered almost instantly however, spitting and snarling through sharp fangs bared and hissing strings of spittle. He had no idea where it's eyes were – if it even had any – so he resorted to sending rapid shots from his web shooter at it's face. It had reeled back, tearing at it's own flesh. Another couple shots hit their mark, these aimed at it's legs and effectively anchoring it to the floor. It roared in fury, taking a swipe at him that barely missed – it's strength proving a challenge for the webs to contain, straining them to capacity.

He didn't want to _kill it_ , no matter how murderous the creature seemed to be – that was definitely a last resort. Throwing caution to the winds, he had dodged yet another strike and circled around it; a well placed kick had brought it crashing to the floor, but before it could rise again it was pinned with more webs – leaving it writhing like a rabid animal caught in a net.

Despite himself, he had looked up to where Thanos was watching from above; as expected, the expression on his face was still undecipherable.

He had only gestured with the gauntlet – the ragged snarls reaching a cacophony as another was brought forward.

_Each day had been the same._

Peter had no idea how long it’d had been; his rough estimate was just a bit more than a week, but with no visible daylight cycle the best he could do was count his moments of ‘rest’ - if he could even call it that. What brief time he was allowed by himself was in a blank room not very much bigger than the other cell – only this time being granted facilities along with an uncomfortable slab that jutted perpendicular from the wall that acted as a bed. The lack of escape routes persisted.

The light hairs on his arms stood on end – _danger –_ his sense screamed, but he quelled the reaction as best he could, as he'd taken to doing when he heard Thanos approaching from the hall beyond. He stood from his place on the slab, having learned the hard way not to refuse leaving.

As expected, the door slid open, and the familiar feeling of the gauntlet's power covered him like a shroud. Not restricting his movement, just a reminder that it could.

“You've been doing well.”

The words seemed to twist the knot that had perpetually settled in his stomach – and was only exacerbated when he was led out the door and guided _left_ instead of the usual right. The warm feeling that Tony's _'You did good, kid'_ evoked when they worked together in the lab felt like another life, so far removed from his current reality.

“Although you are still holding yourself back, you adapt to enemies well.”

Peter resisted the urge to scoff.

“Not that you gave me much of a choice.”

Thanos seemed to look almost wistfully into the middle distance, though still continuing the trek to _wherever_ they were headed.

“My daughter, Gamora, would have had a similar notion.”

 _Gamora..._ He'd heard the name before; her death was what sent the Footloose guy off the rails – and he recalled that _Thanos_ had been responsible-

“Why did you kill her?”

They stopped abruptly, and Peter's heart leapt into his throat – but he kept his breathing as steady as possible. He had endured _enough_. The stony silence he had adopted could only be held up so long – and the part of him that managed his common sense had clearly crumbled along with his self control.

“Don't talk of matters you don't understand.”

The expression was _definitely_ readable this time – the displeasure clear and a warning not to carry on. It wasn't heeded in the slightest.

“I understand you murdered her. Her getting away from you really put a wrench in your plans, I bet.”

Deep in his heart, Peter couldn't help but feel a fiery satisfaction that he was _finally_ causing some kind of reaction – at that moment not caring what consequences the future bore.

He wanted Thanos to feel as angry as _he_ was.

It wasn't even thwarted when his body was seized by the recognisable suffocation of the stone's power tightening around him as Thanos rounded on him.

“Watch your words, _boy_. You wouldn't be able to comprehend the sacrifice I made, the price that had to be paid to ensure a universe in balance.”

It was Peter's turn to narrow his eyes. For the first time, it appeared that the wall had dropped – the _emotion_ showing plainly in Thanos' stare was unshielded and evident. It was a look he'd seen before – in Aunt May remembering Uncle Ben, in Tony on the rare occasions he spoke of his parents – _Pain. Loss. Mourning._

“What you felt wasn't love.”

He didn't quite know _why_ he said it – and he knew the words were a mistake the moment they left his mouth. Agony like he'd never felt before radiated up and down his body, travelling through his veins and permeating his blood with a burning heat that made his vision blur. It stopped as quickly as it had begun, and he knew he'd be a heap on the floor if not for the gauntlet's influence.

“You know _nothing_.” The last word was a hiss through clenched teeth, before he turned away once more “There is much you need to learn... improvements that need to be made.”

The gauntlet flashed, and Peter's vision faded to white.

 

* * *

 

  
  


Tony wondered if the ship was _supposed_ to creak so much. The droning of the engine was expected, but the intermittent groan of the protesting metal that he and Blue had hastily patched together was bringing his anxiety – usually hidden with a veil of bravado – to a steady simmer.

Seven days travelling through the expanse of space wasn't helping much either.

He'd run out of things to tinker with, making alterations to the ship only going so far before he was doing more harm than good. They were in flight with a working oxygen system, and that was more luck than they probably deserved.

After the portal in New York, Tony _really_ hadn't wanted to be in space again – yet here he was, stuck in a tin bucket travelling at a snail's pace through a cosmic void. The sight of a dark abyss speckled with swirling stars would probably incite awe in anyone else, but it was taking all his strength not to remember the _darkness, the pressure on his chest as he tried to breathe--_ He closed his eyes and turned away from the window.

At least he wasn't alone this time.

Nebula was sat at the small table when he walked in, her posture twisted slightly as she picked at a small metal panel on her left shoulder; the screwdriver-esque tool she wielded didn't appear to be doing the job – occasionally a small spark would shoot from the exposed machinery, taking the current down to where her hand twitched with each adjustment. She flicked her eyes up to meet his gaze briefly, but otherwise continued pulling at wires.

He watched her for a couple minutes, and she blatantly ignored him.

It was pretty much their routine at this point.

 

“Need a hand?”

 

Nebula glared at him, and he stifled a smirk.

 

“No.”

 

She carried on prying the circuits up with the tool, sending her fingers into spasm.

 

They had both taken damage from battle a week prior – his wound was on the mend, thanks to his nanites and a surprising amount of aid from Blue-And-Deadly – but she hadn't griped about her injuries whatsoever, preferring instead to seclude herself and did _whatever she did_ to hold herself together, but this was the first he'd actually witnessed.

 

Throwing caution to the winds, he took the seat opposite her – extending a hand.

 

“Don't be stupid. I know you can do this yourself, but _you don't have to._ ”

 

She paused and looked up again, which he took as a cue to continue.

 

“You're with one of the smartest people from Earth, and possibly one of the only people who might understand these cybernetics.”

 

There was at least a full minute of contemplation before she shoved the tool into his hand.

Smug grin plastered on his face, he pulled his chair across to her side of the table.

Tentatively leaning closer to examine her shoulder, he started working. It wasn't dissimilar to the technology he used for his recent Iron Man suits, only _a lot_ more intricate. In another time, he could see himself almost respecting Thanos for the intelligence of the machinery – if he hadn't torn Nebula apart to add it.

He desperately tried to stop his mind picturing the same thing happening to Peter.

 

The silence was becoming unbearable; they had been quiet for the most part, mainly talking about repairing the ship and their plan to get off Titan, but at least it was some social interaction on an otherwise lonely situation. She was staring resolutely at a spot on the wall, posture stiff, and clearly on edge at him being so close.

He couldn't help himself – never being one for impulse control.

 

“What did Thanos do to you?”

 

There was a slight, almost undecipherable change in her demeanour. She met his eyes again, and he wished he'd kept his mouth shut. Her eyes said more than she could have put into words – the large dark iris' filled with the kind of pain that tears had long stopped quelling years ago.

_Hardened._

 

“Do you really want to know?”

 

It was his turn to avert his eyes.

Not talking about it was how he was _coping_. It was how he was still managing to string thoughts together – divorcing himself with the reality of what was happening had been the easiest way of dealing with watching powerlessly as Strange and the Guardians faded into nothing but flakes of ashes that now was mixed amongst Titan's dust.

However, he _had_ to know all the information he could. If his past conflicts had taught him anything, it was that he needed _all the facts_.

Tony nodded.

Nebula shifted in her seat – her arm, despite panels still open to exposed wiring, had stopped it's twitching and was mostly repaired – and she faced him from across the table. As if magnetised, his eyes were constantly drawn back to the cybernetics; As complex as the tendons of a real arm, the metal shifted with apparent ease as she closed up each small hatch – leaving the limb solid and strong.

Nebula sensed his gaze, which didn't surprise him – he wasn't exactly being subtle.

 

“The enhancements were only part of it.”

Her voice was cold; It probably hurt to dwell on those memories, but at that moment Tony didn't care. He could feel guilty later.

 

“Thanos taught us to fight. To kill. To become his prized weapons that he could use for whatever cause he thought worthy.”

 

Tony's stomach flipped – he remembered Peter balking at the 'Instant Kill Mode' he'd put in the suit, picturing his earnest face as he ranted and rambled at him one late night at the lab.

_'I won't need a kill mode Mr Stark! Why would you even have that as an option? I'm the friendly neighbourhood Spiderman-'_

It wouldn't come to that. Peter had a moral compass that rivalled Steve's - sometimes to an exasperating degree. He doubted Peter even squashed bugs.

 

“With each of his children he finds the best way to manipulate them... Exploiting weaknesses, insecurities.” She wasn't looking at him – her thoughts somewhere else entirely, absent mindedly turning the screwdriver-tool over and over in her hands. “He pitted my sister and I against each other. I wanted to please him, make him proud.” She placed the tool back on the table “Thanos made sure I never could.”

 

He nodded in rumination, leaning back in his chair.

 

_It was emotional manipulation at it's finest; make a child chase the approval that would never be granted. A guaranteed follower._

 

“Your son will not be the same if you get him back.”

 

He blinked, taken aback. Despite himself, a short but humourless laugh left him.

 

“He- I'm not his father.”

 

She was unfazed.

 

“It doesn't matter anyway. Don't expect the same boy back.”

 

“Peter's stronger than you know. He's not-”

 

“Don't be a fool.”

 

This shut him up quicker than if she flicked a switch. She stood abruptly, the chair breaking the silence with a harsh shriek across the floor. Nebula didn't look angry – _Not that it was especially easy to decipher her facial expressions –_ just the tone of her voice suggesting she was tearing off the band aid that were the facts he had to come to terms with.

 

“He _will_ be changed, Stark. You have no idea how practised he is at this – I wasn't the first, and if we don't stop him the boy certainly won't be the last. Thanos gave me my first cybernetics within the first _month_ , and by the end of the year I would do anything he asked me to.”  
  


She rounded the table, taking the opportunity to look him in the eyes once more.  
  


“Don't underestimate him. Now that he has the stones, it'll be a whole lot easier.”

 

As she stalked off towards the cockpit, he was left reliving Thanos' parting words like a twisted mantra.

 

_You killed one of my children, now I'm taking yours._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked this one, let me know what you think, all your feedback is amazing 
> 
> Also, to make up for the delay I'll be releasing the next chapter within the next couple days!!  
> If I fail this can you guys feed me to the outriders please


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> … ok so feed me to the outriders, I failed the two day plan – but good news is that I passed my uni degree! Sorry I've been busy af 
> 
> Also, I've updated the tags, as I wanted to warn you all just in case there's some stuff you'd rather not read x 
> 
> Just a word of caution: this is where shit gets a little messed up

Impenetrable darkness didn't surprise Peter any more, but it certainly wasn't a welcome experience when his mind roused into an attempt at consciousness – not quite managing it however.   
It was as if he had been severed from his body, no way of telling down from up. No eyes to open or close, no hands to try and suss out what was happening, no mouth to call out or say anything that would break the isolating silence that was somehow too loud.

A pinprick of yellow light broke through the blackness, and as fast as he could rejoice, he wished for the darkness to return. It seeped into his skin, spreading tendrils through his capillaries like poison hijacking his bloodstream; It sent a sting through what felt like his brainstem – if he even had one in that space - a presence exploring and scalding all that it reached. The light grew with immeasurable speed, a swirling mass of power that convulsed like it was _living_ -

 

“ _What you got there, kid?”_

_Peter almost leapt out of his skin, the palm-sized metal gadget cradled in his hands slipping as his fingers jerked – leaving him floundering and batting it about in attempts to regain a grip. A familiar, warm hand caught the web shooter easily before it tumbled to the floor, Tony Stark holding it aloft in his fingertips and squinting at it inquisitively._

“ _Did you use the coils from a titanium scalable class-G semiconductor to make the web-fluid casing?”_

“ _Uhh, no- I mean,_ yes- _Mr Stark, it worked so much better as a container to hold the electric webs – the old one always jolted me a little bit, plus there was one left over from when we worked on your suit and I just thought-”_

“ _That's genius.”_

_He couldn't help the blood that flushed his cheeks – no matter how much time he spent with Tony, he didn't think he would ever get over the fact that_ Tony Stark thought he was smart.

“ _Though those 'left overs'_ were _going to be used on the essential life support systems on my new suit, but I'm glad they're useful for something.”_

_The blood immediately drained from Peter's face and he looked up, stumbling over his words._

“ _Oh my god, Mr Stark I'm so sorry I had no idea-”_

_He stopped short when he saw the mischievous grin on the other man's face._

“ _You suck.” He couldn't help his growing smile in response “You were the one who left the stuff lying around.”_

“ _Yeah, on my workstation where I put them. FRIDAY, remind me to nail everything down in future lest it be turned into a pair of spider-leggings.”_

_He placed the shooters back on the table that was littered with tools, wires, and loose screws._

“ _I'm glad it's getting some use – to be honest I'm surprised you made anything out of it. Now, you-” he pointed a finger at him, looking over his signature sunglasses in a manner that was clearly supposed to be parental. “Need to get home to your Aunt.”_

_Peter frowned, pulling back his sleeve – slightly singed from the small fire he may have caused (and contained!) earlier – revealing his watch that showed under partially cracked glass just_ how _late he was. Getting from the Upstate compound to Queens would take a few hours at least, but if he left right away he'd arrive just before curfew._

“ _Happy's waiting for you outside, and you've gotta talk to May about her ban on sleepovers.”_

 

Peter was snapped back to the empty space. He couldn't even raise his hands to block the ever increasing brightness – not that it would have done any good, his physical body was clearly of no use here – wherever _here_ was. Unable to look away from it's epicentre, the yellow light was burning it's way into his core. He wanted to return to the memory more than he'd ever wished for anything in his life-

 

_The crushing disappointment in the words as Tony demanded the suit be returned. Peter's mind reeled with anger, shame – “People could have died tonight” ringing in his ears, the sting of failure hurting more than any injury ever could._

“ _I just wanted to be like you.”_

“ _...And I wanted you to be better.”_

 

More memories, and the hurt was now pulling at his regrets as well as his nerve-endings. Each time he was dragged back to the light's void it was like emerging from a migraine-induced nightmare, only to be pulled back under by claws that raked through his entire being. He didn't have time to focus before-

 

“ _With great power comes great responsibility.”_

_The sound of a gunshot. Running across the street towards where Uncle Ben lay, the rain plastering his shirt to his body – the drops soon mixing with blood and tears._

 

Another flash, another shock of pain shooting into his brain. The light had reached a crescendo – he could feel it's heat everywhere, each coil of it's power gravitating towards his mind.

 

_In the lunch hall with Ned, laughing together over some humorous quip, Peter sneaking a look at MJ who stood in the cafeteria line – he moved his bag off the seat beside him just in case she wanted to come over. He hoped she did._

 

It was all-encompassing. Unending. The flashes of the past, even the good ones which had previously brought solace, now stung with the regret that he should have stayed on the bus. He should never have gone on the school trip. He should never have got on that _fucking space ship._

 

_The crushing weight of solid concrete – pressing against his chest and preventing his lungs from expanding. Weakly calling for help but no one within earshot or what used to be the building._

 

A painful sob escaped his throat, which felt raw from screams that he figured must be coming from him.

 

_He could only watch as Tony bled out, the scarlet pooling at his feet and mixing with Titan's dust. A wrenching cough brought more blood spattering onto the ground as his mentor's legs finally gave up and he sank to the floor. His face was pale, all the colour now seeping out through the wound still gaping in his side – each breath difficult to take in._

“ _You will watch as he dies, boy.”_

 

Wait. This wasn't right. Thanos hadn't said-

 

_The blade was still protruding from the torn flesh, red glistening in the waning sun that hung like a silent spectator over the carnage, staining the hands that attempted to stem the flow and pull out the jagged metal._

_With one last shuddering gasp - one Peter could have sworn was punctuated with his whispered name - Tony fell to the floor, unmoving._

 

No. No, no no, that wasn't what happened. Tony had been alive, at least he was when Peter had been taken-

 

_The corpse joined the others on the burning pile – he could see remnants of a scarlet cape, a strange mask with red circular lenses, flames burning from within the Iron Man helmet - the heat warping the metal into something unrecognisable._

 

The sight broke a dam that before then had seemed unyielding.

 

“ _Get out of my head!”_

Breaching the surface of consciousness as if being dragged forcefully from the depths, Peter finally managed to tear his eyes open and drag in several turbulent breaths – the air brutal on his sore throat as it relieved his lungs. His mind was still reeling from the barrage of memories that had been had pulled on and _toyed with_. Peter suppressed a shiver. The sideshow of his life only proved to hammer in just how trapped he was; He'd take Tony's disappointment a hundred times over if it meant seeing him again – at least he could _do_ something then, be better. Here he just felt useless _._

The first thing that came to his attention was that he couldn't move an inch. Not that it surprised him much, as it was becoming an all-too-familiar occurrence.

_The pain radiating up his wrists wasn't though._

From what he could tell, he was being suspended on his back – if the cavernous ceiling he was stuck staring at was anything to indicate – his arms extended to the side in a sick mockery of crucifixion. Willing his limbs to move more than just twitching meekly, he scanned the parts of the room he could see – trying to get a lay of his surroundings; Like the rest of the ship, the walls were comprised of the same metallic, cathedral-esque pillars. Along with the ever-present humming of the ship's engines, Peter could hear a tinny crackling – involuntarily bringing up memories of Tony carefully tinkering with an electrical circuit with a soldering iron.

“Stark and I were not so different.”

Thanos' sonorous voice cut through the quiet ambience abruptly, and would have made Peter jolt with shock if not for his current state. He strained his eyes to the side in an attempt to locate him, but the best he could do was guess that Thanos was somewhere to his left, doing god-knows what that was making his hands _hurt so damn much._ His breath quickened and he used every muscle in his body to stifle a whimper – only managing to limit it to a sharp intake of breath.

It took a moment to absorb what had been said, and another to get a grasp on his furious confusion.

“He's nothing like you.” He spat back, muscles fighting with all their worth against the invisible force keeping him immobile. Part of his mind held onto Thanos' use of _were –_ but he pushed it aside for the time being.

An arc of white-hot agony sped up his arm from his fingertips to his shoulder, and that time he couldn't quite suppress a gasp of pain.

“W-What are you doing?”

Panic spiked considerably within him when his question was ignored completely, accentuated by the fact that he still couldn't see where his captor was or what was happening.

“He took you in, trained you, advanced your power. I do the same with my children, the only difference is that I _don't waste their potential._ ”

Peter could sense more movement, his senses going haywire and fuelled by trepidation and barely contained dread.

“Stark's ideas were commendable, but lacked ambition - Afraid to take the next step.”

With a lurch, whatever mechanism that had been holding him aloft was disengaged. Being lowered to the floor was a relief Peter didn't realise he had needed; being in the same position for so long had tightened his muscles into a giant knot – his back protesting as he struggled to sit upright without putting too much pressure on his hands, which still _hurt like hell_.

As he shifted, a small glint of light caught his eye.

Fear became a tangible, living force that crept over him like an impenetrable shadow, immobilizing him with a force to rival the gauntlet.

With his heart in his throat and a vicious dread coursing through him, he slowly turned his hands over.

Surrounded by red, raw skin that was in the process of knitting itself back together, were metal panels.

Two on each hand, the larger ones were set into his forearm – the veins that had previously occupied the spot now seemed to be diverted around the intrusion. He quickly swallowed back bile as he tried not to imagine what the process had been. On the surface was some sort of mechanism that his panicking mind couldn't fathom – a circular silver disc laying flat against the skin, embossed with crisscrossing patterns along with a tiny opening.

The smaller was embedded into his lower palm. This one triangular, and well within reach of his fingers – moving slightly with his touch like a button.

_Just like his web shooters._

With a shaking fingertip he traced the cold metal, unmoving as if anchored to the bone. The light touch soon devolved into digging his fingernails into his palm, though he could get no traction on the smooth surface. The button depressed, and he reeled back as midnight black webbing shot out with the speed of a bullet, hissing with electricity and colliding with the wall – holding fast and it's current burning where it struck.

“Be glad I didn't do more.”

The threat barely registered.

He could no longer control his hands; they were shaking in an odd trembling rhythm that could have matched his thrumming heart beat. The pit in his stomach had opened into a chasm and he was now in free fall. It wasn't even like he could distance himself from the horror it evoked, every movement sending light reflecting off the inexorable metal, along with his muscles uncomfortably working around what they sensed were foreign objects.

_A constant reminder._

_The consequence of disobedience._

“You hold the same fighting spirit as Stark.”

It was like the world had been unpaused – time catching up to him, and only then sensing Thanos' measured gaze that had no doubt been watching him for god knows how long.

“Though it is a chaotic force that needs _disciplined_.With him, it was left unchecked – which ultimately led to his fall.”

Peter found himself reaching for the phrase that he used when he was at a loss – one that he was using all too frequently in recent days:

_What would Tony do?_

However, a shroud of doubt doused it like a wave. He didn't even know where his mentor _was –_ he bit back a quivering breath – _or even if he was still alive._ The vision from earlier resurfaced, and he blinked rapidly to try and rid himself of the memory, a few tears falling from his eyelashes and down his face.

“... become _better_ than he was.”

The words hit him like a weight – a wrecking ball that struck the wall of his resolve. Thanos using that phrasing was no accident. The malignant gleam in the eyes that bore into Peter's was evidence enough.

His memories, the primary source of his hope weren't safe. Nothing could be hidden. Retreating into recollections was how he had kept himself sane during the time in his cell, and now even that was a risk. Imperative information – strengths and weaknesses, the blueprints of the suits, all details of their lives – would be readily available with a sweep of the gauntlet. Peter's mind may as well be a book on ' _how to defeat the Avengers'._

If they were alive.

The earlier vision only cemented the fact that he couldn't _trust_ memories any more – already finding difficulty in deciphering the true events in his disoriented mind.

“Come.”

Peter flinched like he had been struck as he felt something touch his arm. The familiar force of the stones were absent, instead being guided to his feet by a large hand with a firm grip. Still in a state of shock that seemed to have disabled all ability to think clearly, he let himself be directed out of the chamber – his legs, though still weak from lack of use, on autopilot.

He had no idea where he was being taken, and for the first time he couldn't bring himself to care.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The memories/visions bit was supposed to be a *little* complicated, but I hope it made sense? 
> 
> I love you all so much for the kudos and comments :) I'm just sorry this chapter took so long 
> 
> Your comments are the driving force that motivates me to get a move on and write more, and I really really appreciate you all xx


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whelp, late again  
> Tho I promise I'm not giving up on this fic until it's finished! So don't worry about that x 
> 
> also gonna be honest, I'm really not happy with this chapter and had a LOT of trouble with it, but I couldn't leave y'all waiting any longer – the quality will improve soon, sorry!

Landing the ship wasn't exactly the most graceful thing Tony had ever done.

They had managed to set a course for the Avengers Compound in the slowly dying computer, which kept flickering and sparking despite constant maintenance, but for their descent they were relying on gravity.

 

The past few weeks had quickly become unbearable; only so much time could be spent planning their next move, which left ample time to dwell on everything _he'd fucked up._

No matter how far he looked back, it was undeniably his fault - even tracing the blame back to bringing Peter to Germany. He had been a _normal kid._ Yeah, one with spider powers who stopped muggings in his free time, but Tony had gone and dragged him into something bigger. Vigilante justice may not have been the safest hobby, but there was no denying it was undeniably safer than battling a tyrannical alien set on wiping out half the universe. Taking Peter under his wing had been a driving force of motivation for the time Tony had known him – he resisted thinking _one of the best things that ever happened to him_ – but he would give it all back in an instant if it meant the kid would be _safe._ He should be at home, the only worry being coming school tests or the decathlon – not lost within the depths of space, wherever he was, not knowing that Tony would fight tooth and nail to get to him.

Besides the occasional conversation with Nebula, those thoughts were his only company.

 

They were going far too fast when they broke through the clouds, each of them scrabbling to secure seatbelts and brace for a rough impact. Any efforts to steer were hampered by the dark of the night, and – having keyed in the coordinates as best he could – they could only hope that they had enough luck not to plow directly into a building.

_Fortunately, lady luck had thrown them a bone._

With a deafening resonance, they struck the ground – feeble landing thrusters doing their best to slow the descent. He gripped the arms of the chair with white knuckles, regretting having not donned what was left of his suit as his head was whipped backwards upon impact.

Tony was still blinking stars from his vision when he saw in his peripheral a now familiar metal hand unclip the harness that held him to the seat. With a surprising gentleness, she pulled him to his feet – and upon realising that he could barely hold his own weight in his weakened state, she stayed by his side and slowly walked them both across the uneven floor.

 

The training field outside the compound hadn't fared well during their arrival; A large portion of the ship was now embedded in the ground – and although they'd managed to land without considerable damage to the vessel, putting the lawn to rights would take a lot of work. They were lucky the exit ramp still lowered, even if it was at a worrying angle.

Tony barely registered Nebula's attempt to keep him upright – her arm around his waist, guiding him onto the grass.

Grass. Dirt. _Earth._

He let out a shaking breath he didn't realise he was holding.

The knot in his stomach didn't release, but he reckoned it loosened just a little.

 

In the distance he could see the compound flurrying with activity; Running figures were silhouetted against the interior lights as they sprinted towards them on the now decimated field.

Crisp night breeze blew through his hair – a refreshing change from the artificial recycled air of the ship – and he stumble forwards on shaking legs.

Tony gave himself a moment. Just one moment.

Several deep breaths brought with them the smell of recently disturbed dirt and burning foliage, no doubt caused by their entrance. The condensation on the blades of grass sealing the clumps of upturned earth together – so different from the loose dust of Titan, which would swirl in a gust with every movement.

 

A hand met his shoulder, which jolted him back to the present.

 

“Tony?”

 

The word was like a shot of sedative.

_Rhodey._

His friend was embracing him before he could begin to process the rest of the people now surrounding them. They stayed that way for what felt like minutes, before they both pulled back – Tony taking stock of the remnants of the Avengers.

 

His heart plummeted at just how few of them were left. Behind Rhodey he could see the pitifully small group, and he could only pray that there were others that had stayed in the compound because _they couldn't be all that was left._

 

There were six that he could see, though he tried to convince himself he'd miscounted; All of them seemed like ghosts of their former selves in the light of the moon.

Steve stood at the forefront, blue eyes alert despite the grey circles under them. He seemed at a loss for words, his expression one of a man who was trying to hold onto some semblance of strength – though the undertones of a beaten hero was noticeable behind the facade.

Bruce was by Tony's side shortly after he and Rhodey separated, his focus trained on the gash across his head along with the dried blood that had seeped from the healing wound on his side. Tony tried to brush him off, a few murmured assurances doing nothing to quell the look of concern on the other man's face. Natasha stayed towards the back of the congregation; As always, she seemed poised to take action if the circumstances demanded, but otherwise opted to give them space. She looked equally as exhausted, though was doing a better job of hiding it than their resident super-soldier – and, unless he was mistaken, he could sense relief in her expression.

 

A lone figure stood a few meters away, someone that Tony didn't recognise whatsoever; she was looking onto the scene with a concerned yet pensive stare, her blonde hair catching the cold breeze and brushing against her shoulders. She appeared content as an observer, but her stance was that of a coiled spring – tense and primed for a fight.

 

Tony's moment of reprieve was over. They had work to do.

 

He couldn't care less about the mystery woman at that moment, and he pushed speculation to the back of his mind. – getting the run down of what happened was imperative. The glimmer of hope he still held thought that maybe, if there was the slightest chance that Thanos had brought Peter with him to get the last stone, then just _maybe..._

 

“What happened?”

 

The silence that followed acted as another knife in his side. He moved on; there was no point in _waiting_ for anything, he'd already wasted enough time on that god-forsaken starship and, for all he knew, heading in the wrong direction from where his kid was _suffering-_

 

“Well, where is he? Where's Thanos?”

 

By the looks on their faces, he knew precisely what the answer was. Despite himself, his irritation grew, taking the place of the hope that now shattered and faded – he needed information and he needed it _now._ The longer they spent messing around avoiding difficult subject, the longer Peter was at that monster's mercy-

 

“Was there anyone with him?” The urgency in his voice increased, the words quickening along with his breathing “I know he had his army, but was there anyone... Did he-”

 

The boiling fury was directed at himself this time; He'd spent weeks planning exactly what questions to ask - but now that the time came they caught in his throat.

 

“ _Did you see Peter?”_

 

Their looks of utter confusion would have been hilarious given any other situation, but then it was only gasoline being thrown onto the fire of his anger.

 

“What, that intern kid?”

 

Tony wasn't even sure who said it, his mind running a multitude of plans along with desperately trying to keep a lid on his temper – he ran a hand through his hair to keep them from doing something he'd regret.

 

“ _Yes_ , the intern-”

 

“You've got to get some rest, Tony.” Steve's irritatingly calm tone was what made what little patience he had break.

 

“I've been resting for _weeks_ , Rogers. I'm sick of wasting time, and if you're just going to dance around my fucking questions-”

 

“I think it's best if we took you to the medbay,” Bruce spoke for the first time, cutting him off and approaching in true _Doctor_ mode, “Looks like you have a concussion, you're dehydrated, malnourished, and who knows what effects long term space travel in a broken ship can have...”

 

“Could he be delusional?” Natasha's voice only fuelled Tony's frustration.

 

“I'm _not delusional._ He had-” He cut himself off this time.

 

There was a metaphorical fork in the road ahead.

Peter was immensely protective of his secret identity, to the extent that all of the Avengers merely knew him as 'Peter Parker, Stark Industries Intern' – the kid that could chat to them for hours about suit enhancements, and had what someone had dubbed a 'nerd attack' when he'd been introduced to them. He had stressed multiple times that _'though your “I am Iron Man” moment was so awesome, Mr Stark”'_ he was determined to remain anonymous even to the people he held in highest regard.

If he loosed the secret, he'd be breaking the promise – the _trust –_ that they'd shared since their first meeting.

Although he could see few other choices.

If what happened on Titan taught him anything, it was that he'd need the team – no matter how few they were – if they were to pursue Thanos.

_However..._

 

Bruce had a point, not that he was delusional, but that he needed a drink.

_Preferably something alcoholic._

For a short second he considered that he _could_ be delusional – for he swore he spotted an upright walking raccoon speaking quietly with Nebula as they made their way back inside the compound – but he dismissed delusions as wishful thinking.

 

“Steve, briefing room. Ten minutes. There's something you need to know.”

 

* * *

 

 

A short time later, with a glass of whiskey and an IV drip trailing into his arm – the latter at Bruce's insistence – he sat amongst the empty chairs in the briefing room, as if any moment the rest of the team would take their seats at the long table.

 

He had taken a place near the head of the room, engrossed in the process of hooking up his tablet to the display screen on the wall. The other's dispersed to their preferred mourning spots; Bruce retreated back to the lab, firmly stating that Tony should come by afterwards for a full medical check – though both knew that the order would unlikely be followed.

By the look that Natasha had given him shortly before disappearing into the night, he had no doubt that she had put the pieces together already – hell, she probably knew who Peter was before he'd ever set foot inside the base. He'd likely hear her thoughts on the matter later.

 

From what he'd garnered from the scattered retellings of events, Thor had left shortly after the battle was lost; When Thanos had vanished once more to god-knows-where, the only sight of the god was a figure walking into the distance across a dusty battlefield, leaving scorches where lances of lightning crackled in his wake.

 

On the arduous journey across the ruined training field, Rhodey had filled him in on what happened – _who they'd lost._

Tony tried to block out the memory of Strange and the Guardians falling to ash before his eyes – only a step away from imagining his teammates suffering the same fate. To his immense relief however, he'd been assured that Pepper had been one of the lucky ones – and though she was on her way to the compound, her ETA was unknown; Travelling across the fractured city would take a great deal of time and careful manoeuvring, and he'd rather her be safe but across the city than... he shut down that train of thought.

_He couldn't lose anyone else._

 

He looked up when the glass door to the room slid open, Steve entering with slight caution. Despite himself, Tony's irritation spiked - he wasn't some wounded animal.

Steve took his place by the table's centre – his usual seat if he remembered correctly. The fact that he didn't take an absent member's place a clear statement on how the Captain was handling their losses.

 

“What do I need to know?”

 

He had to respect him for getting straight to the point. It was the kind of directness Tony needed at that moment, no screwing around and wasting time – just needing the _facts_.

 

Trying not to dislodge the itchy needle of the IV that was pumping much-needed nutrients into his system, Tony reached forwards and retrieved the tablet from the tabletop – tapping a few keys that brought the display screen to life.

 

“I'm only going to explain this once, so keep up because we haven't got a lot of time.”

He gave a brief second for the other man to take this in – receiving only a small nod in response – then continued, tapping another couple times on the tablet; a new image was cast on the large screen – the photo, taken directly from a high school yearbook, showed Peter grinning to the camera. Averting his eyes from the picture seemed to be the only way to keep a handle on the guilt that kept crawling into his heart.

 

“We failed on Titan – and by the sounds of it, the same happened here.” He pressed on, despite the shadow that fell on Steve's face. Just like all of them, he was doubtlessly carrying the blame on his shoulders – regretting every action that could have led to their downfall. Every possible thing they could have done differently.

 

“Except...” he took a breath, bracing himself, “Along with taking the stone... he took Peter Parker.”

Voicing what happened sent a fresh wave of pain through him – and no amount of pushing it to the side would work this time.

_It was his fault._

 

“But how could he have _Peter?_ It was just you, Strange, and...” Steve stopped himself short, meeting Tony's eyes directly – the blue laced with incredulity.

The penny had dropped.

 

A whispered curse broke the tense silence. The other man rose to his feet, pacing the room with restrained steps, mouth in a solid line and apparently choosing his next words very carefully.

 

“How old was he, Tony? Fifteen?”

 

He couldn't formulate a reply – the blaming eyes of both Steve and Peter's photo burning him.

Steve's pacing reached a halt, deciding instead to lean on the table, shaking his head in disbelief as if that would somehow negate the revelation.

 

“You brought a _kid_ into a war?”

 

Something in him snapped. He'd thought telling Steve would be the fastest way of _getting something done_ , but it had instead landed him in exactly the situation he'd wanted to avoid – repeats of the same regrets that played on a constant loop in his mind.

 

“You're not saying anything I haven't already told myself, Rogers.” Tony had risen to his feet without realising, shaking legs barely holding him up and resorting to hold the IV stand as an improvised crutch.

“He shouldn't have been there in the first place. This is on me.” To his relief, this seemed to silence him – though didn't cool the tension that crackled around the room like static.

 

“Why only tell _me_? Surely the rest of the team need to know who he is?”

 

Normally, he'd bat back a snarky quip – probably something highlighting an exaggerated comment on the others' intelligence – but he was just _tired._ Tired of being sick to his stomach wondering what torture Peter was going through, tired of explaining the direness of the situation, tired of Steve's apparent lack of urgency.

 

“Because I don't know what to do.”

 

To Tony's surprise, the admission was like a weight off his shoulders. Lying to himself for all those weeks, pretending he had a _plan_ – when in reality they had no leads, no way of tracking Thanos, and an entire world that would take a long time recovering.

 

They sat in silence for a long moment before Steve spoke – clearly on a similar thought pattern.

 

“Everyone has lost people. There's a lot of mess to clear up on Earth before anyone can go chasing into space.”

 

The anger still boiled in Tony's chest, but was doused by the reality that, in a way, Steve was right. _Not that he'd ever admit it out loud._

In the fury's place, helplessness seeped in – out in the galaxy, _somewhere_ Peter was waiting for him – if he hadn't lost his hope already. _Fuck, he didn't even know how many weeks it had been-_

 

“... And I'm not going to pretend I agree with your choices, but all I know is that those people are _gone –_ and if what you're saying is true, Peter isn't.”

 

Their eyes met abruptly.

 

“... there are some people that _can_ help. Come on, I'll introduce you.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it! Thought Tony needed a chapter on his own too – but dw the chapters will go back to the split perspectives 
> 
> also I've learnt not to promise a day for the next chapter, cos it never seems to work out - just know that I'm aiming for some time next week :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all are so sweet I can't deal   
> The comments on the last chapter were so awesome, I'm really glad you're enjoying this as much as I enjoy writing it 
> 
> I'm Charlie btw, in case anyone wanted to know, I shoulda said so before :P 
> 
> Thanks to Taekwondo_Queen for the prompt for this chapter :) I hope you like it, the second part of the request will be in the next chapter xx

Peter's body had started waking itself naturally whenever he heard a noise at the door. It was a jolt of adrenaline, fear, that brought his heart into his throat – prompting a small voice in his head that told him to stand, to be ready, because it wouldn't incur any punishment. Another voice, getting quieter by the day, appealed to his perseverance – adamant that he would not comply. _The second sounding uncannily like Tony._

No matter how hard he gripped onto the second voice, he could feel it dissipating as he watched.

 

He sat up, expecting and bracing himself to meet the familiar feeling of his body being commandeered.

Nothing happened.

Listening intently, barely breathing in his alerted state, he reached out for any evidence of movement – that the usual painful routine would begin once more.

_Again, nothing._

 

With tentative steps, he made his way to the door. Although there was still no way of determining the time, his internal body clock had quickly adjusted.

_Great - it got used to a routine of torture, but had he ever woken up in time for class? Nope._

He stopped short when he reached the door, his mind running a mile a minute.

It was open.

A stream of light seeped through the gap, the heavy metal barrier standing ajar. The hopeful voice took over his brain, rejuvenated at the thought of _escape_ , his shaking fingers grasping the edge and pulling steadily – cautiously.

He was torn between moving slowly, making stealth and not getting caught a priority, or going as fast as he could – he had no idea when Thanos would appear, the thought of his wrath almost making him retreat.

The stubborn voice overruled.

 

Cold metal floor numbing his bare feet to the bone, he crossed the door's threshold into the hallway beyond. The single step had seemingly tripled his heart rate – repeatedly looking up and down the corridor, still anxious for _any_ sign of movement, he put his hopes on a left turn and started walking with the quietest footsteps he could muster.

He knew that the abhorrent throne room lay in the other direction, as he had been led through it enough times on the way to the 'training' arena; the stones could have always brought them there in a second with a simple gesture, but Peter figured the journey past the monolithic chair and the view upon the vast expanse of space acted as a reminder of his inevitable defeat – his enemy's _victory_.

 

He had started mentally mapping out the labyrinthine ship in his mind – but he'd found that, since his last encounter with the Mind Stone, his subconscious had deemed certain types of information unnecessary.

 

Steeling himself, he looked furtively around the next corner – his stomach twisting in disappointment at what he saw; Several large doors lined the walls, very much like the one to his cell – he could only hope that one of these would be open too.

What little time he had was surely running out – there had to be something to make this risk worth taking.

 

The first three he tried remained impenetrable, but just as he was losing hope, the fourth slid open with a jarring smoothness. His heart rose tentatively once more at the sight of what appeared to be a control room – _from what Peter had deduced from a lot of sci-fi films anyway_. It had the same obsidian floor and walls as the rest of the ship, but the room's centrepiece was a panel mounted on the opposite wall – a holographic screen floating a few inches from it's surface.

His approach woke it from it's dormant state, a flurry of blue symbols floating across it at a speed too fast to take in.

Peter cast another look to the door, straining his senses to discern any sound that wasn't his own nervous breathing. Part of him wished he heard _any_ sign of Thanos – just so he knew for sure he wasn't lurking in a shadowy corner ready to catch Peter red-handed in his disobedience.

The silence remained undisturbed.

 

Despite how wary it made him, he turned his back to the door to face the panel. He began to raise a wavering hand, but stopped midway as the patterns on the screen warped; more of the incomprehensible symbols flitted past, a few halting and organising themselves in a short list at the corner. His eyes jumped from one place to another in an attempt to make some sense of it all – his distress only growing. If he couldn't even understand the language, there was no way-

 

_Stop. Think._

The second voice was back, along with the calm that he desperately needed.

He closed his eyes, taking a breath.

This was just like one of Tony's interfaces that he used all the time at the lab, maybe a little more _alien_ , but the same basic premise.

_Nothing to freak out about, kid._

 

Eyelids opening again, he continued his hand's path towards the console – although his fingers still shook, they were a great deal more stable than before. Hesitantly, he brushed his index finger across the hologram. The glyphs stilled immediately.

If this were anything like the lab's interface, the list to the side would have to be a menu of sorts – to determine what section of the program should be run.

He tapped one at random – a collection of intercrossing lines that resembled no earthly language whatsoever.

The screen cleared, a fresh set taking their place accompanied with what appeared to be adjustable sliding dials that raised slightly above the rest. He stopped short – changing any of these, whatever they did, he guessed would alert Thanos. Peter's best bet was to look for some ship schematics and search for an escape pod of some description, or even some way of sending a message – _a call for help_.

Swiping vaguely to the side of the screen, he was thankful when it returned to the previous display. He worked through the next couple options of the list in a similar manner, neither garnering much useful information, just more gibberish he didn't understand. The fourth looked more promising; he took a few steps backwards as the hologram expanded, showing a grid scattered with small dots. His heart leapt, resorting to standing on his toes to peer over the display – _finally something that almost made sense._

From what he could surmise, it was a map of their sector of space. It almost resembled an old-school radar scanner, several stationary dots that could have been planets being circled by smaller, faster ones.

Other ships.

Other _people_.

His heart began to race, a shaking hand trying to tap a ship as it zipped past – they wisely appeared to be giving Thanos' ship a wide berth, steering clear of any inevitable confrontation should they cross the Titan's path.

_He could only hope that one of them was brave enough to help him._

There had to be a way of communicating with them, sending out a distress call, _anything-_

 

Barely containing his trepidation, he rapidly tapped the display – as if that would somehow make it work faster – until a small window opened containing a rectangle with a fluctuating line running horizontally across the centre.

He let out a shaking breath.

The line rippled, stopping when the room fell into silence once more. _Reacting to the sound._

Peter couldn't help the joy that flooded his system, such a foreign sensation after such a long time.

 

In a state of semi-disbelief, he pressed the symbol.

 

“H-Hello?” he began before briefly checking the door again, his voice unnaturally loud in the quiet of the ship. He returned to the console – this could be his only chance.

 

“If anyone can hear this, my name is Peter Parker – I-I need help. _Fuck_ I don't even know if anyone will understand this- I'm on Thanos' ship, if someone's out there, he still has the stones and I don't know what he plans to do... I-I don't really know how this communicator works but _please_ send this message and location to Earth, to the Avengers- Hell, even the, uh-” he trawled through his memory for what Footloose had called his team, “-the Guardians of the Galaxy, they-”

 

His neck was alight with sharp pinpricks, the hairs standing on end – _danger._

The hologram vanished, the room darkening as it faded into nothing. Peter whipped around, maybe if he could make it back to the cell-

 

A hand circled his throat in an unyielding grip.

 

“You continue to disappoint me.”

 

Hands scrabbling uselessly at his neck, he focused on trying to draw breath through the constriction – to no avail.

Thanos towered over him, the gauntlet remaining unused on his other hand and preferring instead to relish in using his own strength to inflict pain.

 

“I gave you a chance, an opportunity to prove yourself. It seems my trust was misplaced.”

 

There was no measured tone this time, only words brimming with fury that sent a cold chill down Peter's spine.

 

_It had been a test._

He could have hit himself, _of course it had._

It was stupid to think that the door had just been left open – a 'technical glitch' – when it was obvious now that it had been bait. One that he'd fallen for hook, line, and sinker.

 

“It seems we have more work to do than I thought.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

He had been wrong when he thought his situation couldn't get worse.

Peter had been unceremoniously thrown back into the cell, the door closing resolutely behind him. His hands had immediately flown to his throat – the choke-hold having lasted for an immeasurable amount of time, and he could feel it already bruising despite his accelerated healing.

_That had been a few days ago, at the least._

 

Food, which had previously been some sort of unidentifiable 'bread' and water, had stopped coming – leaving his body in a state of perpetual weakness, his stomach twisting in pain so frequently he wished it'd go numb. The lights had apparently also been a luxury; the encompassing darkness was absolute, even his enhanced vision couldn't distinguish a single thing in the inky black.

He half-hoped he'd go into a meditative state, like those stories he'd heard of people going into shock and loosing time. _No such luck._

 

He was left with only his own thoughts for company.

_And the hope that someone heard the message._

 

A noise sounded from outside.

Jolted from his reverie, he looked up in what he assumed was the direction of the door – unsure if he should investigate, not that there was much he _could_ do. He just stayed where he was, although his mind began accelerating once more – the small spark of inextinguishable hope acting as fuel.

 

It happened again; whatever the sound was, it was getting closer. Peter couldn't quite identify _what it was_ , just that it was loud and headed his way.

Subconsciously, he had risen to his feet – his head tilted to better hear the unknown. Having grown accustomed to the steady thrum of the ships engines, and growing to recognise Thanos' footfalls, he could ascertain that this was _definitely_ something new.

 

Once more, the din sounded – Peter's hands moving to block his ears as it reached the hallway outside.

Stumbling backwards and barely recovering his balance, he instinctively retreated to the back wall – only guessing what the commotion could be.

He didn't have to guess for long.

The door slid open abruptly; Shielding his eyes against the blinding light that stung his retinas, he squinted through his fingers.

 

Silhouetted against the light now streaming into the dim cell, stood Tony Stark.

 

Overwhelming, palpable relief flooded through his system like a tranquilliser; his mind couldn't quite process the emotions rampaging through him. It was _over._ This hell had reached it's end, and even if they hadn't taken down Thanos – Peter would be able to go _home_.

Back to evenings with May, chatting over hospital gossip – Back to weekends at the lab with Tony – Back to school, something he'd never thought he'd miss.

All he seemed to be able to do was let out a thin laugh – possibly verging on hysteria – and try not to let his legs give way, despite that his muscles had left him as soon as the door had opened.

 

The man's eyes scanned the room, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the gloom – widening slightly as he recognised it's occupant.

 

“ _Peter?_ ”

 

Peter's restraint crumbled – he staggered forwards as if drawn by magnetism, his weak knees doing nothing to help as he fell into his mentor's arms. Although having no idea how long it had been – Weeks? Months? - the lack of human contact had taken a toll. Though the metal of the suit was cold against his skin, he couldn't help but cling on. To hold someone _real-_

 

He was ripped from the moment when a metal hand pushed him back firmly, insistent that he keep a distance.

 

“M-Mr Stark, you're _here –_ you're actually here, oh my-”

 

“What the hell were you thinking?”

 

The sharp statement brought Peter's relieved stammering to a halt. His mentor's expression was one he'd never seen before, the intense brown eyes boring into his own – all humour non-existent and brows low in what could only be perceived as a _glare._

 

“W-what?”

 

Letting loose a short, mirthless laugh that sounded more like a scoff, Tony met Peter's eyes – he was taken aback at what he saw; the gaze was laced with unreined _anger_. A dark fire simmering behind them.

 

“I told you to get off that ship – to leave the _important_ things for the grown-ups to handle.”

 

Despite the stinging truth to the words, he couldn't help but be taken aback. He thought they'd spoken about this on the journey to Titan, when he'd been made an Avenger...

Still trying to wrap his head around the situation, and in an attempt to salvage whatever this rescue mission had turned into, Peter cut in – hating all the while how meek his voice sounded.

 

“Can we talk once we're out of here? I think we-”

 

The suited hand was back, this time brandished in an accusatory point.

 

“Oh no, you have to hear this – it's been a long time coming, kid. We all thought you were _dead_ , so I'm gonna say this while I still can. Who knows what other idiotic choices you'll make; I might not get another chance...”

 

Tony started to pace in what little area they had, shaking his head in a manner that Peter knew was him barely containing his fury.

_What the hell was happening?_

He had no idea how things had escalated this quickly. The relief at seeing his mentor in the threshold had been quickly replaced with confusion and guilt that stung with every word.

 

“Can we just-”

 

“It's like last time – you take on this shit by yourself like you think you're some god-damn _hero,_ except this time a can't take the suit away because now you've proved me wrong, you _are_ nothing without it.”

 

Tony's voice was now a shout, but thoughts of being found by enemy forces were far from Peter's mind. He stood, shell-shocked – only noticing the tears when they fell down his face and onto the cold metal floor below.

_He shouldn't be surprised – isn't he just saying what Peter already knew all along?_

It still stung. Hearing the truth said aloud was a pain that penetrated his core, settling alongside the guilt that it paired with.

 

“Not to mention,” Tony rounded on him again, “I _trusted_ you to stop them from taking Strange – turns out I can make stupid decisions too, as look how well that turned out. That led to _this_ : the whole team has been put in jeopardy to get here – to get the stones. If you've been here the whole time, why haven't you _done something?_ ”

 

Any responses got caught in Peter's throat – answers that he was now realising were _excuses_. He'd tried to fight Thanos, but there was no way of defeating him whilst he held the stones – at least no way for someone as _weak_ as he was.

_He should have done more._

Peter was always asking himself what Tony would do in a situation, but the answer hadn't stuck until now – hell, Tony had even told him.

_Be better._

 

“I've gotta call the team back, it sounds like they're getting slaughtered.”

 

Tony's attention was directed behind him, down the corridor and listening to the sounds of ongoing battle that had slipped Peter's mind.

 

“I-I can help, we can-”

 

“Oh, you've done enough.”

 

The last statement seemed to numb Peter's entire being. Upon reflection, this beration shouldn't be surprising; Tony was right, it _was_ a long time coming – the amount of times Peter had fucked up, caused more problems than he solved, being a burden, _pathetic..._

 

With a gasping breath – his lungs seized with a tight knot of despair and abandoning any capacity they had – he let out a final whisper.

 

“Please don't leave me.”

 

The other man's expression changed, going from anger to a mix of irritation and distaste - _disgust._ He gave a subtle shake of his head, barely resisting a dismissive eye-roll before beginning to turn away. A child that had gotten in over his head was the least of his worries.

 

_No. He couldn't end things like this-_

Peter started forwards, not really knowing what his plan was but determined to get Tony to stop and listen – reaching out a hand that met a shoulder.

 

The metal fist collided with his cheekbone so fast it was hard to believe it happened at all if it weren't for the pain still arcing across his face. Peter's own hand rose to meet where his mentor had struck, subconsciously backing away further into the shadows of the cell.

 

He couldn't take his eyes off Tony's face.

 

Given how the rest of the confrontation had gone, rage was expected – even the disappointment that had been present when he took the suit away – but what he saw instead was pure _disdain_.

_Like he didn't even care._

 

Without a single word, only a brief glance towards the boy now recoiled in the corner, the door slid shut once again.

Peter couldn't even form a single sound, as much as he wanted to shout for his mentor to come back, to _save him_ , he was frozen in place. His knees gave way at long last.

Crumpling to the floor, he listened to the sounds of battle getting further away, incomprehensible shouts fading into the distance until all finally fell silent.

 

He couldn't do anything except repeat the prior scene in his head. Reliving the hurt that he knew was warranted.

In the distance he registered the familiar sound of heavy footfalls – and although they didn't enter the cell, he merely accepted that Thanos had been victorious once again.

 

Peter was too blinded by the steady stream of tears blurring his vision to see the glowing red light that rippled across the room like a wave.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had waayyyy too much fun writing fake!tony and now I feel bad – sorry petey boi 
> 
> Yooo this time I actually had a reason for taking so long – I got a second job!! now hopefully I can keep living in my flat :P 
> 
> Hopefully there'll be another chapter within a week, things are ramping up and I'm super excited to write more xx


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Agh sorry for the wait guys - I'm doing overtime at my job so I'm working non stop :/ it's kicking my ass, so this fic is like a beacon of light that's guiding me through :P this is the longest chapter yet tho, so hopefully that makes up for it 
> 
> some of the other suggestions y'all had are gonna have to wait til a later chapter, soz but I don't wanna throw off the pacing of the story xx

“ _What the hell were you thinking?”_

 

Bruising had began to develop where he had been struck; It was a dark stain that conveyed Tony's view as well as the words did – the reproval yet another reminder that was stuck on repeat in Peter's thoughts.

 

“ _-it's been a long time coming, kid-”_

 

 _Kid._ A moniker he now realised was just a way of showing how little he had been taken seriously.

 

The hours, possibly days, he'd been left in the cell had given him plenty of time to trawl through his memories of Tony – each interaction under scrutiny in a search for any signs of dislike, scorn.

Looking back, he'd been so _stupid_ not to see it before; It was as if a veil had been lifted, what had seemed warm and friendly before now was unmasked. Encouraging pats on the shoulder he remembered fondly were souring – the patronising attitude the older man had shown now clear as day.

_Had he just been a project, akin to the suits? Or perhaps the regular days working in the lab had just been a way of keeping him in check, couldn't have another enhanced running amok with no supervision..._

 

He'd been fucking _blind,_ vision clouded by the famous, legendary Tony Stark taking an interest in him.

 

Attention roused faintly by the sound of footsteps, he barely reacted to the door sliding open. He hadn't risen from his position on the floor until the familiar envelop of the stone's control forced his body to cooperate.

 

“What happened to them?”

 

He'd risked the question, a weak voice escaping before he could think better of it; His need to _know_ outweighing any punishment that could lie ahead.

 

“ _...it sounds like they're getting slaughtered-”_

 

A contemplative silence followed, and he knew better than to ask again. If he was to know, it would be under Thanos' terms. Aside from the usual, he hadn't yet received the repercussions for his disobedience – trepidation a constant companion, dreading what would come.

 

No words were spoken, even when he was thrown into the pit and heard the chilling sounds of Outriders contained behind the barrier. It opened so fast that Peter barely had time to regain his footing.

 

There were too many – one after another, after another came scrabbling from out of the door, tumbling over each other in their attempts to reach fresh meat before it's kin. Every maw glistening with saliva and bloodlust, snapping sharp fangs and hissing, tasting his scent on the air.

 

Despite knowing it would yield nothing, he looked to where Thanos stood – a monolith silhouetted above on the raised side of the fighting arena, expression unreadable.

 

A snarl that was too close for comfort brought him hurriedly rolling backwards, fingers automatically primed on web shooters. The fixtures still sent a chill up his spine, but at that moment he would take any help he could get.

 

Sending out two shots – both striking their targets and sending them sprawling backwards – he continued to back away as more Outriders crawled from the dark like worms out of woodwork.

There had to be at least ten, forming a clawing mass that was converging on him as each second passed. _If there was a way he could separate them, take them on one at a time..._

 

They were upon him before he could finish the thought.

 

Working from pure instinct, Peter leapt to the side in an attempt to circle them – learning from past battles that, if he could get behind them, he was mostly hidden from their field of view which would give him the advantage.

He sent a quick shot out to the wall of the pit, the crackling web striking the metal with a resounding echo; A couple of the Outriders reared their heads towards the sound, though he was unable to use the opportunity to his full advantage as another swiped its talons in his direction.

The claws embedded themselves in his flesh, catching under the skin and raking across his abdomen. It wasn't too deep, but he was still taken aback by the blood now coursing from the wound that stung in the air.

 

Peter stumbled back again, though was careful not to back himself into a corner. He dodged another swipe, however the competitive animosity between the creatures was gone – instead joining forces and advancing as a unit.

In a last-ditch attempt to gain any sort of ground, he sent out a flurry of webbing, managing to pin one of them to the floor where it snarled and scratched at the binds with it's remaining limbs.

_That was the last stoke of good luck he had._

 

His balance was snatched away abruptly; One of the creatures had struck low, sending his already weak legs collapsing from under him. They wasted no time in descending on him.

 

Relying on innate reactions, he defended himself as best he could. Protecting his head was his top priority – his hands pushing at the jaws that lunged at him, digging his fingernails in to where he had deduced their eyes were. An animalistic satisfaction rose as a few of them retreated, but was soon engulfed by panic and _pain_ -

 

He couldn't restrain his scream – the teeth and claws were sank deeply into his right leg, and he could feel them scraping across bone before snapping them easily into splinters.

Stars erupted in his vision, choking on his own breath through gritted teeth.

His guard dropped but they didn't surge forward, though his mind was too occupied to wonder what happened.

 

It may have been the shock and adrenaline coursing through his veins, but all he could do was lie back – leg now numb and his blood dripping through the floor grates with a steady rhythm.

Though he could feel his body making it's best attempt at knitting the shredded skin back together, he knew deep down he was too far gone. He'd been injured before – quite badly to May and Tony's apparent concern – but he could sense this was different.

He lay his head back to rest on the floor. It felt oddly light, brain not really processing his surroundings any more; Around him swam only lights and flickering warped shapes.

Deep from the recesses of his thoughts a realisation floated it's way to the surface.

_This was it: the end._

When he'd considered his own mortality in the past, it had been with a sense of dread. Leaving May and Tony behind had been what pushed his mind to keep fighting – he couldn't disappoint them, let them down.

_Now though?_

He didn't know if May was even still alive – Tony's words of _“We all thought you were dead”_ a strong implication that, if she had survived, she would be long past mourning.

 _Tony_... a last flicker of guilt flitted across his decelerating mind.

The man he had considered his mentor was gone, along with any perceived notion that he had _cared_ if Peter lived or died.

The bruising on his cheekbone answered that question.

_Then why was he even trying?_

 

Though he was aware of a change in surroundings, he was well past the point in taking in new information, his vision slowly fading into a black vacuum.

 

* * *

 

 

Introductions to the newcomers had been impersonal and brief, at Tony's insistence. He didn't have _time_ to waste on getting to know them – nor the energy required to figure out whether their allegiance was genuine, if it was patriotic or self serving.

 

The blonde woman – _Carol_ , as he had been informed – seemed pleasant enough if not a little terse, but he reckoned none of them were especially brimming with conversation. She was a super-fuelled space warrior or something of the sort, and had apparently been an old friend of Fury's – despite the fact the director had possessed more functional eyes than people he trusted, so Tony couldn't help but be a tad sceptical. Steve could deal with judging her reliability, as he no doubt needed something to occupy himself – not to mention Tony didn't have time to process anything that wasn't bringing him closer to _getting Peter back._

 

The Raccoon was _different_ to say the least.

It had sauntered up to him, arms folded across it's chest and looked up at him with narrowed eyes – the intelligence behind them blended with judgement and suspicion.

 

“So your plan is to shoot off into space in _my_ ship, to go after a guy that you have no way of finding – to grab some kid and hopefully loot the stones in the process. That right?”

 

Tony had blinked, nonplussed and burying the twinge of anger that had risen at ' _some kid_.' There was no derision in the tone however, just an air of measured scrutiny like he was in the midst of being analysed.

In a normal state of mind – though fuck if anything could be considered normal any more _–_ he figured he'd make a few jokes at it's expense, because fucking hell he was talking to a _raccoon_ , but at that moment the bizarreness of the situation was at the bottom of his list of concerns.

 

He decided to reciprocate the bluntness. _Finally someone who just gets to the point._

 

“Yeah, that's right.”

 

It nodded slowly, contemplating – ears flicking in a manner Tony was too tired to decipher.

The constant eye contact may have been an attempt at intimidation, but frankly he didn't care; Whether the raccoon agreed with the plan or not, it was going ahead regardless.

He looked back, unperturbed.

 

“Sounds as good as any of Quill's plans...” It muttered, almost to itself, before snapping it's sight back to Tony's, “I'm in. Any plan is better than no plan, especially if it comes to getting the other half back.”

 

With that last statement still processing in Tony's mind, it had abruptly walked past him and up the ramp into the shadows of the ship.

 

It had taken marginal damage, but was well on it's way to being fully functional; It had lasted well enough ferrying its two passengers across deep space, but the fuel and life support systems were shot – and it was apparently a miracle they made it back to Earth at all.

 

After an immeasurable amount of time only conversing to exchange minimal engineering technobabble, they finally bothered to learn each other's names.

 

Rocket's direct approach didn't end with words, diving straight in to fixing a fuel leak along with tackling the sparking technology that had been just too _alien_ for Tony to approach without efficient research.

 

Though Tony worked persistently with merely a vague sense of time, his companion vanished on occasion; from his spot on the underside of the ship near the landing gears, he swore sometimes he could hear the muffled dulcet tones of Blue Swede echoing through the empty vessel.

 

There was no denying though, Rocket was a damn good engineer.

 

Adding a few names to the roster wouldn't make up for what they'd lost, but if they were willing to pitch in when it mattered they could do whatever the fuck they wanted.

 

They had a ship to fix, which made it even more irritating when they kept being interrupted – whether it was Bruce checking his vitals, imploring that he at least _try_ to take a break, or Steve bringing empty 'progress reports' that were clearly his good conscience finding an excuse to stop Tony from driving himself to a premature death.

_It was apparently the latter's turn again._

 

Steve could be damn quiet when he wanted to – either that or Tony was so focused on aligning circuits to notice a six-foot-something super soldier pick his way through the numerous electrical paraphernalia scattered around the ship to come to a halt beside him.

 

The man's eyes still held the exhaustion that had only become more evident as the days passed – however it was now joined by a steely undertone, a wall against the turmoil of grief building behind it. Tony had built a few of the same walls in his life, though at that moment his own was more akin to a dam.

 

“You need sleep, Tony.”

 

He barely suppressed an eye roll.

Realising this conversation would merely be a 'healthy habits' lecture, Tony turned back to the dormant machinery with a multitool in hand.

 

“Did Mama Bruce put you up to this? I already told him I made sure to eat my packed lunch.”

 

It was a weak attempt at his usual jibes and they both knew it.

In his peripheral vision, he saw Steve cast his gaze over the half-eaten meal along with a mostly full bottle of water. Correctly assuming that Tony would just continue to distract himself with repairing the ship, he risked breaching the other man's personal space, leaning against the hull next to him.

_Why was he always so fucking stubborn?_

 

“Seriously though, you-”

 

“You think I'm _not_ being serious?”

 

Brown eyes met blue. Both determined, both fatigued despite their best efforts.

 

When he spoke next, Steve's tone was low in his best _support group_ tone – though Tony would rather that than the patronising manner from the PSAs-

He winced, pushing back memories of Peter becoming ecstatic when he realised _the Avengers didn't know about the videos-_

 

“I know you want to help Peter, but you're not gonna do that by killing yourself.”

 

Tony looked away again, continuing his work and talking over his shoulder.

 

“I've worked for longer than this before – Haven't you ever pulled an all-nighter? I didn't think you stuck to the rules _that much_. Is this when I find out your bedtime is 8:30?”

 

Steve's look of concern was gradually transforming to one of slight exasperation.

 

“It doesn't mean you _should_.”

 

When this didn't garner a response, he pressed onward.

 

“We all need you at your best, _Peter_ needs you at your best-”

 

“No, what he _needs_ is to be saved from the intergalactic dictator that wiped out half the universe – but _my mistake_ , I guess I got my priorities wrong.”

 

They fell into a quiet moment, Steve re-evaluating his approach and Tony resolutely keeping his attention on his work.

 

“Did he have a family?”

 

There was a pause in the sustained _clink_ of metal on metal. Tony avoided Steve's eyes that he could feel like the heat of a spotlight.

 

“He has an Aunt. Parent's died a while back.”

 

Any gaps in the wall were closing fast, so Steve pushed.

 

“Does she know?”

 

With a clatter the tool in Tony's hand was placed a little too forcefully down on a small table, before he loudly pulled a box full of assorted gadgets towards him and began to rummage through it.

 

“No.”

 

In truth, he had selfishly put off contacting her; He knew she survived – the many missed calls he'd skimmed through upon his return being evidence of that. The voicemails had been hard to hear, the first being May in a state of tearful panic.

 

“ _T-Tony if Peter's with you, please please get him to call me- People are just_ vanishing, _I need to know if he's alright, please-”_

 

After a few more of a similar sort, they gradually devolved into despondent pleas, as if reaching out the branch of contact was the only connection to Peter she had left.

 

“ _I know you're probably not even getting these – I don't even know why I'm still trying, you're likely gone with the rest but if there's even a chance... please at least tell me how it happened. He thought the world of you, please tell me he went peacefully and not..._

 

“She deserves to know.”

 

Steve's words cut through his reverie, bringing him back to the present – the guilt that he had been trying to keep under control now even heavier upon his shoulders.

 

“If I get him back, then it wont matter.”

 

Tony retrieved what he was looking for from the crate, turning away in a manner that was supposed to mean _end of discussion._

A signal that Steve clearly didn't pick up, or blatantly ignored.

 

“Bruce hasn't managed to crack any way to locate Thanos yet, and as far as I'm aware-” he gestured to the ship which, despite a few scuffed panels, looked a great deal better than it did when they 'landed', “-this is almost ready to go.”

 

Tony shot him a sharp look. _The point?_

Steve took the hint and got down to brass tacks.

 

“What I'm saying is that, when you get it functioning _then what?_ Pick a direction and just hope you cross his path? If we're gonna pull this off, we've got to b _e sure_ _._ Recover, recharge, and you and Bruce find some way to pinpoint a location – _then_ we go.”

 

This stopped him short.

 

“We?”

 

“You're not alone in this, Tony. Each of us has been dealing with the fallout, and everyone is willing to sacrifice themselves to get that son of a bitch.”

 

The tiredness in the blue eyes now contained an undertone of resolution – and Tony could tell he held a similar look in his own. Both of them clinging to their own objectives like lifelines.

It didn't surprise Tony that the other's were focused on the stones, on getting the other half back – he knew his own view was skewed; In a perfect world he'd give the needs of the one for the many, but he just _couldn't_.

In retrospect, him recruiting Peter as his impromptu protégé had been entirely self-serving. Thinking he could bring some good into the world by taking him under his wing. He was a _kid_ , one that Tony had led into a life of warring superheroes and alien tyrants – in the process taking him _out_ of a normal life.

Peter was the best of them all – too good to be left at Thanos' whim.

 

Steve didn't break the silence they had dissolved into, giving ample time for his statement to sink in and letting the other man become lost in his own thoughts.

It was Tony that spoke, quietly and with a tone that could be mistaken as desperation.

 

“I can't leave him, Steve. There _has_ to be a way of finding him fast; Thanos is one of the most feared guys in the galaxy, you'd think _someone-_ ”

 

His own thoughts, synapses racing with new revelations, interrupted his sentence and he lapsed into silence once more – _Why the fuck didn't he think of asking before..._

 

“Where's Nebula?" 

 

* * *

 

 

Although he was becoming accustomed to his consciousness being out of his control, Peter couldn't help but feel jarred when he was wrenched away from the tranquil darkness once again. They were the moments he savoured the most - as it was merely pure and complete _nothing_.

_No Thanos, no 'training', no thoughts of Tony._

_No feelings. No thoughts._

It was the closest to bliss he was granted – a reprieve.

 

The artificial light hit his retinas sparked a fierce lance of pain spiking through him, and he hastily clenched his eyelids shut. This only seemed to worsen it, as the tension of his muscles caused the ache to continue – attempting to blink the pain away only resulted in a wave on nausea that crept through him, so he relented, keeping his eyes firmly shut as to prevent further pain.

 

Calming his breathing and honing his focus, he assessed the situation; A stab of fearful apprehension crept it's way up his spine as the familiarity of the situation dawned on him. He bit back his panic.

The brief view he had gained through the flurry of pained vision had been of the ecclesiastical ceiling, and by the fact he was being held immobile and aloft by some unseen force, his suspicions were confirmed. _The 'enhancements' room_.

 

Initially, he was surprised that his leg held little of the agony from earlier – instead feeling numb and unresponsive to his weak attempts at movement – but that was soon replaced with a gnawing foreboding; The irrationally hopeful voice in his mind, now so quiet and even more infrequent, assured him that his accelerated healing was the answer. He'd been under for who-knows how long, and the gouges that had littered his skin probably hadn't been as bad as it'd looked-

_Fuck, he could barely think through the headache..._

 

On an impulse and a determination to face his reality, he pried open his eyelids.

He squinted, trying his best to ignore the fresh hurt that burned through his retinas as the room became clearer. Peter barely had time to get his bearings before his body was released from the invisible hold – being lowered none-too gracefully until he lay on the floor, his arms automatically bracing and hoisting himself into a sitting position.

His head swam, nausea rearing up as the change in orientation sent another siphon of agony running through his temple.

Something scraped across the floor.

There was less terror than last time, his breath only hitching slightly – only an empty, almost numb feeling spreading through his veins.

 

Where hours previously lay a leg torn into ribbons, pearly bone glinting through the blood, now rested a limb of silver.

 

His trembling hand met cold metal.

 

The smooth skin of his thigh transitioned harshly into an encircling ring of metal that signalled where his leg now ended and the ' _enhancement_ ' began – It looked like a mockery of muscles, plating twisting around each other, sleek, strong, _unfeeling_.

 

_It didn't account for his headache though._

The left side of his head felt like it was splitting – each movement spurring residual soreness spreading to behind his eyes. He pinched the bridge of his nose, a technique that had worked during stress-induced migraines after sleepless nights of patrolling. There was no relief.

Slow, measured breathing was the way he was preventing the swell of nausea overtaking him.

Raking his fingers steadily through his hair, he skimmed them across his scalp, the skin was tender, each shift of the hairs agitating it further. Moving further towards his left temple-

 

Pain skyrocketed as he located the source; a large, rigid metal panel lay unyielding, it's expanse arcing from near the corner of his eye and cresting past his ear. Fingernails prying at the seam where it cut harshly back to bone did nothing – embedded in his skull securely.

 

He couldn't hold back the nausea this time, but he barely registered vomiting onto the floor – his mind stalled in a state of shock. The web shooters he had just about dealt with, but he couldn't help but imagine what the process had been, of Thanos cutting into his _head-_

 

“You are fortunate I did not make you _watch_ as I pulled your brain from your skull.”

 

The words pierced through Peter's fugue state, Thanos having stayed silent until that point, merely observing from the sidelines.

His head still resounding with a unyielding ache, Peter watched him through bleary eyes – unwillingly tensing as Thanos closed the distance between them, coming to a halt beside him.

 

“W-what is it?” Peter's voice was scarcely a whisper, almost loud in the quiet of the room.

 

“Ensurance. There are consequences for your actions, and I trust you will not defy me again.”

 

Hand once again skimming across the side of his head, he automatically began pulling at it again as if somehow, if by pushing it in _just the right way_ , he could hope to reverse the irreparable damage.

 _No luck._ He started to scratch, digging in despite the pain – he wanted it _out_ , he didn't care how much it hurt, it was just _wrong-_

A large hand gripped his arm, firmly guiding it away from the cybernetic.

 

“Your accelerated healing is an asset, but it still needs time to heal.”

 

He couldn't help but be taken aback by Thanos' tone; it wasn't exactly gentle, but was a vast change from the venom from before – _as if speaking to a child_.

 

“Nebula failed in many ways, but through her I could determine what enhancements are beneficial.” He gestured briefly to the panel, “There will come a day when I will be unable to oversee you at all times,” Peter's eyes involuntarily fell to the gauntlet, “It provides memory access, should it be necessary.”

 

The implication was clear.

There was no hiding anything now – Stones or not, Thanos would know _everything._

Although backing away wouldn't do any good, it was an instinctual response. He pulled away, trying to find his footing and manoeuvre himself upright; he almost fell when he couldn't get his new limb stable underneath him. It responded to his movement, though the lack of feeling was too disconcerting, sending him stumbling.

 

A guiding hand returned to his arm, stabilising him before leading him slowly towards the door.

 

“Come, we have more to discuss.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this makes sense? Idk I finished this at like 3am so lemme know if anything is confusing
> 
> so next chapter there'll be a section from Thanos' perspective :O tbh it was gonna be at the start of this one, but needs a little more work and would fit better with what's gonna go down next time 
> 
> No jokes, I'm gonna seriously try to get the next chapter done quicker – love y'all and thanks for reading xx


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh goodness it's been more than a month, sorry! About the hiatus: I had some personal stuff going on that I wont bore you with the details about – but now I'm back! 
> 
> This chapter isn't too good and is a lil short, but I'm trying to get back into the swing of things and I really appreciate your patience xx 
> 
> I wrote the following chapter as well, so I can say for certain that the next chapter will come out on the 10th October :D Ya boi is getting organised

Tony had expected to find Nebula skulking in some shadowed corner, glowering at people from the gloom much like she had done on their long journey home. What he hadn't expected was – after an aggravatingly long time searching every dark corner of the compound – he spotted a lone blue figure high above on the roof, eclipsing the sun, leaning leisurely on the railing and able to observe the entire compound from her vantage point.

 

He took the stairs two at a time, though his tired muscles screamed in protest and he tried to ignore how exertion made his head spin. A voice in his head that sounded aggravatingly like Bruce's reminded him to _get some sleep -_ but he pushed it to the back of his mind, as had become the norm.

 

The chill afternoon air sent his hair into a frenzy, and he vaguely noticed that it was long overdue a cut – though that thought was soon sent to join the rest of the unimportant 'problems'.

 

“We used to get a better view from our old digs, you should have seen it.”

 

Nebula looked over her shoulder at him, apparently both unsurprised and unconcerned at his entrance.

 

“This will do.”

 

Her tone was the same as always, guarded, not revealing anything.

Tony approached, any wariness he had already spent during the first week of their time on the ship, replaced by a civility that only close-quarters and fucked-up personal histories could share.

 

“I know Thanos is a bit of a touchy subject, but I gotta get some info.”

 

He could feel the glare without even turning to face her.

This wasn't a pleasant topic for either of them, but he had to get _something done_ regardless of how it provoked the knot of pain that coiled around his heart like a writhing viper.

 

“If I knew where he was, don't you think I would have told you?”

 

_Both of them were aware that, if she did know, Thanos would be dead right now._

 

They lapsed into silence, watching the sun sink as afternoon turned into evening. It was strange hearing less birdsong, seeing no planes in the sky heading to the city – and it only highlighted how much had changed since the 'snap'.

 

“At this stage I had already killed for the first time.” Nebula's voice was low, and he possibly wouldn't have heard if not for the eerie quiet.

 

He stayed silent, letting her speak at her own pace.

 

“Thanos took me to a planet – one on the edge of a system, who made their trade in mining shipments...” she trailed off for a moment, dark eyes unfocused and lost in another time.

“He made me slaughter half of every village, convinced me it was for their benefit.

Even if your boy is as strong as you say, there isn't much time – if it's not already too late.”

 

Running a hand across his face, he couldn't stop the rush of images building a scene with Peter in the same situation; the kid _was strong_ , there was no doubt about it – hell, he had the sturdiest moral compass of anyone he knew – but being forced to kill...

Nebula's previous words swam back through his memory to greet him once more.

 

_Don't expect the same boy back._

 

“Any idea where he could be? Bases, regular pit stops, his fucking holiday homes- _anything?_ ”

 

Turning, she faced him with an expression he'd never seen her wear before; the stony determination was overtaken by an exhaustion that had been built up for so long, it's only escape was in brief moments of vulnerability – shining through cracks in a mask a lifetime in the making.

 

He could relate; he was _tired_ of the constant worry, of the people he loved being dragged into danger, of there always being a threat to face – and he was certain it was a sentiment shared by the whole team.

 

“Too many places for one ship to search.”

 

“I might be able to help with that.”

 

The sudden voice sent both their heads jerking around to assess the newcomer. Nebula's eyes were once again cold, guarded, and alert – narrowed towards the doorway to the roof.

 

Leaning a shoulder against the door frame, Carol – the name he dredged up from his distracted mind – observed the scene with an air of wariness and intrigue.

 

To be honest, Tony hadn't paid the woman much thought before; apart from their brief introduction and a few scraps of detail his brain had somehow clung on to, he'd been much too preoccupied to take her into consideration.

She took their stares as a prompt to continue, moving a few steps towards them but maintaining a respectful distance. Arms were loosely folded over her chest, she donned a brown leather air-force jacket that was thrown on over her suit. Her stance was steady, seemingly unapologetic for interrupting their conversation – an attitude that raised her in his estimations slightly – and her tone matched her steady and calm demeanour.

 

“We can split the search. I can cover more ground, probably faster than you can.”

 

This earned raised eyebrows from Tony.

 

Having Space-Xena and her arsenal of superpowers on their side was an opportunity to jump at, a portion of his mind already racing with various plans and strategies – but something made him pause.

_He didn't know her._

She was essentially a stranger to them, appearing out-of-the-blue with a wild story and space magic. They had no inkling of her personality – how stable was she? Would she save her own skin if push came to shove?

_If it came down to either getting Peter back or the stones back, what would she do?_

 

“I'm liking the confidence, but-”

 

“How do we know we can trust you?” Nebula's voice cut through his own, her gaze boring into Carol's – the latter not wilting under the glare like many weaker people had done in the past. In fact, a small but weary smile twitched the corners of her mouth.

 

“He has your son, right?”

 

The question struck him off guard, and the serpent of pain around his heart twisted horribly. Both their stares were on him now, and he clenched his jaw reflexively and tried to form comprehensive words.

 

“He's-” Tony stopped himself short. The words _he's not my son_ couldn't quite release themselves.

There was no point arguing semantics if it wouldn't lead anywhere.

 

“Something like that.”

 

It was all he could force out. Not the most eloquent he'd ever been, but at this point he was sick of dancing around words.

 

He saw his own reflection in the kid.

It was a part of what pulled him to that small Queens apartment in the first place - _A genius kid with dead parents._ After Germany, he had thought that sticking with Peter would benefit them both – but in retrospect he'd just been trying to make up for his own mistakes.

Tony couldn't claim the mantle of _father_. Especially not when it was his fault Peter was in this mess to begin with.

 

“Don't you want all the help you can get?”

Carol drew the jacket marginally closer around herself, her fingers idling at the sleeves – her eyes stubborn but imploring.

 

_They'd already wasted too much time._

 

He nodded.

She returned the gesture promptly, Tony's response apparently acting as a go-ahead.

 

“The ship's almost ready, right? We just need a list of possible locations, then we can make a plan and start the search. I'll gather whoever else wants to go, and we'll meet at the hangar in half an hour – okay?”

 

They were both still stood by the railing, Nebula as stoic and unreadable as ever and Tony blinking in disbelief at Carol's sudden spring into action.

 

After what had been weeks of arduous work getting the ship serviceable, all the while watching the team around him agonisingly slowly adjusting to their circumstances with no _urgency_ , Carol was now the catalyst that would spur them forwards. _Finally someone who wants to get shit done._

 

With a few strides, she was at the door, looking back over her shoulder at the pair of them.

 

“Then what are we waiting for?”

 

* * *

 

Stark's influence ran too deep within the boy; It would take a great amount of precision to remove it entirely, but manipulating it – manoeuvring it onto another path – would be much easier to achieve. Not that Thanos was exactly short on time. In fact, he was certain that what remained of the debilitated band of _heroes_ would take their time in regrouping. He had no idea of _who_ remained – nor did he particularly care – but he had no doubts that they would find him eventually, even if it took them years.

That determination had earned Stark his respect on Titan, and from Thanos' albeit short time on Earth he gleaned that it was a common trait their warriors shared.

A trait that had been passed to Peter.

 

He also shared a blindness to his motivations – of _why_ the universe had needed intervention. Peter needed to realise that he had been granted the freedom of independent thought, an ability to form his own judgement, not merely being a shadow of Stark's likeness.

 

Each of his children had come with their own impediments, their own weaknesses that needed eliminating.

 

Gamora's main foil had been her grief for the planet she left behind, often crying the names of the dead as if they could hear her. Although initially compliant, the realisation had settled as she set foot on the ship – Thanos' grip on her arm turning from gentle to firm as soon as she faltered, her soulful eyes cast over her shoulder at the massacre as the doors closed behind them, sealing her fate.

The sentimentality had been remedied quickly; Separation and time, along with making her continuously focus on training – on accepting the warrior she was meant to become.

_A force to be reckoned with, her will striking fear across the galaxy._

Her potential only heightened the betrayal.

She'd lost sight of what his plan would achieve – the spark corrupted by a new philosophy of putting the needs of the few before the many.

 

He wasn't blind to the similarities between Peter and Gamora. Both were skilled fighters and strategists, but each were on opposing ends of the same path; Gamora was moulded by the his own hand into a righteous cause before she was lead astray, whereas Peter began in the dark – robbed of his potential – but now being guided into a place by Thanos' side.

 

Nebula had been simple, her naive craving for approval making it easy. A naturally competitive nature paired with Gamora being an undeniably superior opponent created an ideal environment for her resentment to grow – a jealousy fuelled by the enhancements added in an attempt to make her weak form stronger, though in the end only proving that the weakness lay deeper within her. In later days she was merely a method of testing how far cybernetics could be pushed.

_At least she had been good for something._

 

Thanos knew with an unshakable certainty that Peter would conform, just as his predecessors had.

 

True, they'd both been younger than Peter when he had taken them in, but the gauntlet would make the missed time obsolete. With a gesture the stone could breach the depths of the boy's mind, break apart false morals, and alter what he needed to bypass some of the more challenging obstructions that had been built up over the time of Stark's influence.

 

Speaking with Peter would be his next step; as with every child, Peter needed to be taught right from wrong – and with the stone's help he would be able to make him _understand,_ and grant him a re-education that was long overdue.

 

The rift between boy and his past mentor had already begun to form. Even without the stones, he could see it in Peter's eyes. Joyous memories now turned sour by the betrayal of an idol.

Yet a spark of resistance still remained.

It was fading by the day, but he had his doubts whether it would ever diminish completely without aid.

Several times he had debated wiping the boy's mind entirely, having a blank slate where all ideals were gone besides the ones Thanos chose to impart – but he reconsidered;Peter's connection to the Avengers was too valuable to erase. When they located them – having no doubt that they would eventually – having that information at his fingertips brought an advantage.

 

It also made the boy a formidable weapon against Stark.

 

He had not let his personal vendetta distract him from what needed to be done – the greater cause was too important, and it's need greater than themselves.

_Though despite himself, he would garner immense satisfaction from the pain he would cause._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed, sorry for the long wait! 
> 
> Big news though, I've created a tumblr dedicated to this fic :D   
> https://papersailsfanfic.tumblr.com/ 
> 
> it will contain concept sketches, updates, and possibly crying about future marvel films :P


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!! Whelp, I almost made it on the 10th   
> Better late than never I guess??   
> I was intending on posting this last night, but wasn't actually able to get home until now x 
> 
> The chapters are slowly getting longer again - I originally wrote a Tony section for this, but figured it worked a lot better as it's own chapter

The harsh obsidian throne was equally as daunting as the first time Peter had been subjected to the room where it overlooked the vast expanse of space. He expected to be guided past it as usual, a regular reminder of his situation, but instead they came to a halt at the raised dais, and he almost collided with Thanos – who's eyes were cast out upon the stars and swirling cosmos.

 

Peter took a few steps back, his new leg still feeling foreign and uneven under his weight; the strands of metal it consisted of coiling around each other, working in tandem like muscles without skin. It was strong, equally as strong, if not stronger, than his _original_ limb had been – but now cold, unfeeling, seemingly indestructible.

_Wrong._

 

A constant discomfort accompanied the metal that now arched across the side of his skull; it's weight was a constant presence – and though it wasn't heavy enough to affect his balance, there was a persistent pressure that showed no signs of stopping. His headache had subsided within the following days, only flaring up again when he found himself subconsciously tracing the panel with his hand and letting his fingers pry too close to where his skin met metal.

 

After _however_ long it had been _– had it been months at this point?_ \- Peter was beginning to decipher Thanos' expressions, though the thought of becoming so familiar with him sent a seeping unease crawling down his spine. He'd gotten used to the marginal narrowing of the Titan's eyes to show displeasure, of the passive tilt of his head in deliberation – but the look on his face then was undecipherable.

 

Peter's confusion only heightened when – in an infuriatingly measured, laid-back manner – Thanos turned from the window, walking to the dais and taking a seat upon it; he gestured to the place beside him on the raised platform, suggesting Peter do the same.

 

He was more than a little taken aback.

 

There hadn't been the familiar push of the gauntlet's power, merely an invitation to sit on the cold step, overlooking the vastness of space through the viewing window.

 

_This couldn't mean anything good._

 

A brief moment passed where Peter just remained where he was, hesitant and suspicious. He knew the courtesy of _asking_ would not be extended again, so he felt he had little choice but to warily sit himself by his side – keeping as much distance as he dared.

 

Somehow this predicament was more unnerving than fighting in the pit – at least that had been repetitive, a routine, his mind only occupied on anticipating and reacting to his opponent's next move; Now his mind was left to speculation, swirling in uncertainty in a completely unpredictable situation.

 

_Had he done something wrong?_

Peter cast his mind back through the last few days in attempts to find an answer, but came to the conclusion that, if he _had_ , he'd surely know about it already.

 

“Your enhancements have been proving useful.”

 

The Titan's sight was on Peter now, the measured and calm demeanour in full force. This kind of scrutiny was different than him merely surveying his fighting; the close quarters making him feel more like a bug pinned under a microscope.

Peter kept his mouth shut. _Best to wait until he knew what this was about._

Thanos took his silence in his stride.

 

“You will come to appreciate them - Your abilities have already grown considerably, and they will be of great benefit.”

 

Though he was probably right in that his combat skills _had_ improved – _whether he liked it or not –_ he wanted to forcefully disagree with the former; There was no way he'd ever appreciate the 'enhancements'. The utter _wrongness_ of altering someone against their will – not to mention installing something into their _brain_ – would always outweigh any benefits.

 

“Speak your mind.”

 

_What's the point? He could just break into it anyway._

 

The order was firm, but not severe. Peter wouldn't go so far as to say that Thanos' tone was _warm_ , but it certainly lacked the austerity that his words usually held.

He considered for a moment, unsure of what type of response was needed; suppressing the part of him that wanted to shout, scream that _he didn't want this, why the fuck did you do this to me_ _-_ he decided on a more subdued answer, but the truth nonetheless. There was no point in trying to lie anyway.

 

“I was fine without them.”

 

“ _'Fine'_ , yes – but there will always be ways to improve.”

 

To this, Peter stayed silent. He shifted slightly on the step – wrapping his arms around himself in order to conserve some warmth, trying to ignore how his metal limb seemed to collect and radiate the cold. Every time he saw the cybernetics, a sick pit opened in his stomach; no matter how _useful_ they might be, their permanence only brought his helplessness to light.

 

“How is it different to what Stark did?”

 

Something within Peter balked, reflexively rushing to the man's defence despite the pain that twisted his insides at the name.

 

“He didn't permanently change anything, or get in my _mind_ -”

 

“Didn't he?”

 

The question stopped Peter in his tracks.

 

“I've seen inside your mind – when was the last time you had a thought that was not influenced by Stark's teachings?”

 

If Thanos expected an answer, he wouldn't receive one. Peter had lapsed into silence, looking resolutely at the floor whilst his thoughts attempted to untangle the new slew of information.

 

Try as he might, he couldn't refute his point.

 

_Were the two so different?_

He could barely believe the thought crossed his mind – Tony had always been the 'good guy', a kind of quintessential idol of what an Avenger should be. Perhaps Peter had just been duped by the facade that also charmed the public.

The only difference was that now he _knew_ Thanos' motives, he wasn't being unknowingly used as a pawn.

 

There was still a part of him that instinctively rushed to Tony's defence, even after...

The last look he'd seen in his mentor's eyes were seared into his memory – the scorn as he looked through him.

_Like he didn't even care._

 

For the past few years, his decision making process had consisted of asking _'What would Tony do?'_

With every action he had found himself considering if he would approve, lest he feel the suffocating grip of disappointment.

 

“He made enhancements, sought to make you stronger. Stark's motives were entirely self serving – whereas now you can truly make a difference.”

 

More than anything, Peter wanted to tell him to _shut up, shut up and let me think-_ but was he just hiding from the truth again? Before, he would have vehemently denied any similarities between Stark- _Tony_ and Thanos... but now that he noticed them, they were becoming more evident with every passing minute.

 

_Everything with Stark had been a lie. He had been dressed up in his fancy tech, used as a tool to fight his 'mentor's' battles... Manipulation, deception- he should have realised sooner._

 

“Admit it or not, he changed you. He led you on a corrupt course, I only seek to correct that. You have only learned Stark's viewpoint – one he weaved to blind himself and you from realising what needed to be done.”

 

“But killing all those people wasn't right-”

 

Peter's voice was small, barely a whisper – hating himself for sounding so much like a child – but the scrap of defiance left had to let itself be heard.

He could feel the piercing eyes on him again, and – steeling himself – he met the gaze, trying to hide his tumultuous thoughts from showing on his face.

 

“The alternative was watching a universe squabble over resources, each civilisation running themselves into extinction.”

 

Now that he had found his voice, it seemed a dam had been broken somewhat – and he found himself responding again without thinking.

 

“There's no good reason for murder.”

 

He knew in an instant he had overstepped.

It was as if the entire atmosphere of the room changed – rising with an anger that was almost tangible.

 

“It was _mercy_ , not murder.” the words were as cold as their surroundings, the threat held within them heightened by Thanos rising to his feet – Peter instinctively wanting to back away, but experience teaching him that it would only make things worse.

 

“I had hoped to avoid this, but I see you are still bound by Stark's influence.”

 

Voice still collected though laced with something darker, Thanos raised the gauntlet, the stones that adorned it glittering in the light - the yellow most prominently teeming with power.

 

“In time you will thank me for this, for liberating you from his control - It is crucial you _understand,_ to accept the true meaning of right and wrong.”

 

Yellow light now shone brightly, almost burning Peter's eyes though he couldn't force himself to move.

 

 _Was there any point in resisting any more?_ He was already irreversibly damaged – the cybernetics ensuring that escape was not an option. Even if he could, where would he go? Probably light years from Earth, Stark had abandoned him. May and his friends all thought he was dead, all having moved on likely without giving him a second thought.

No one to go back to.

 

He could only stay where he was, bracing himself as the wave of energy soon engulfed him and dragged his consciousness into the dark.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!!   
> Not too happy with this, but I hope y'all enjoyed x 
> 
> Tony section next chapter, and I also have 'mind stone shenanigans' written in my notes :P so that should be fun 
> 
> I'll be posting updates on the tumblr: https://papersailsfanfic.tumblr.com/


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woop woop guess who has the flu 
> 
> RIGHT I know I said a Tony chapter, but I was so hyped to write this one it's gotta be pushed to the next chapter, soz 
> 
> Lemme know if anything doesn't make sense, I may be hyped up on cold medication a lil bit

Mind stranded, immobile in the emptiness.

A spark of light, Peter's eyes drawn to it inexorably, flickered some distance away – it could have been miles or right in front of him for all he could tell. He wanted to move towards the yellow beam's warmth, craving any feeling but the numbness interspersed with coiling pain.

 

He could tell immediately that this wasn't like anything that had happened before; Although everything from that day on Titan had been completely unpredictable, he'd at least thought he'd reached the plateau of the pain that was being consistently batted his way.

 

There was no way to tell if he was awake, asleep, dead, alive- only the vague pretence of consciousness that danced inexorably out of his reach.

 

The previous breach of his mind had been nothing in comparison. He'd never thought he'd wish for the searing pain of his worst memories that graced him last time – at least it wasn't an unrelenting suspense.

 

“You'll have the respect Stark never gave you.”

 

The words reverberated around _whatever_ space he was trapped in, making him start – simultaneously suffocating and cavernously echoing all at once. The void surrounding him seemed to stir, though he couldn't make out anything besides the intermittent golden shine.

No sign of Thanos, the low, calm tone instantly recognisable.

 

Peter didn't _need_ respect; True, in the early days he'd had a juvenile _want_ to impress Stark, the man's very nature making someone pretend to be something they weren't - but being Spiderman had always been about _helping people._

 

“You _will_ be helping people.”

 

A flash of the yellow light blinded him, and he couldn't help but savour the warmth it brought even as it sent a flashing series of images burning across his mind.

 

_A woman with her child on a distant planet, now able to provide for family – no longer having to go to bed hungry every night._

 

_Cityscapes, once torn with war and poverty, now transformed into havens, where the remaining population had banded together, smiling as they revelled in the new found peace._

 

_The familiar streets of New York – the homeless now able to find a place to call home, to make use of the supplies that would otherwise had been squandered._

 

“Is it better for people to live in pain? Even on your planet, resources were dwindling – all across the universe people were in poverty, each day wondering how they would feed their families when the sun rose.”

 

_No, no. There were surely other ways to fix things, this wasn't salvation it was murder... Even if it was the solution, who gave Thanos the right to decide that? To choose who lived and who died?_

 

“You're right.”

 

The voice came from behind him this time, and he wished he could turn to face his tormentor – hearing Thanos' voice whilst Peter still see the city he had once called home was a bizarre juxtaposition that disturbed him to his core.

_No source of comfort was safe, he should know that by now._

 

“I may not have been entitled to choose who survived _,_ ” his tone was pacifying, the words thought through meticulously before speaking “but I am one of the few who _can_ wield the power to change things for the better.”

 

Amongst the yellow light, Peter swore he could see each of the stones glinting as if on queue.

 

“You said it well yourself.”

 

Peter's wished more than anything that he could cover his eyes – the gems flashing with a burning intensity that seared his retinas, making his eyes water which only increased the challenge of keeping tears from falling down his cheeks.

 

“ _When you can do the things that I can, but you don't – and then the bad things happen, they happen because of you.”_

 

The memory swam in his mind – overruling any other thought until he was in that moment, sat opposite Stark in that cramped bedroom, trying to push aside the debilitating hurt that flooded him at seeing the man's face.

When Peter had said that, he'd meant it – and thought he still adamantly stood by those words.

 

What was the point of having abilities if you don't use them for something worthwhile?

 

That's what he thought Stark had been doing, using his tech, intelligence, and power to _help –_ hell, that had been part of why Peter had joined him to begin with, but he'd been proven so wrong...

_Had Stark actually helped him save people?_

The question echoed in the abyssal silence.

At the start, he'd been duped into thinking that fighting Captain America had been for the greater good – to prevent hurt by stopping trouble before it started.

In the greater scheme of things, Peter had just been backup for a squabble. What had it achieved in the long run? What had it helped besides Stark's reputation?

Yes he'd been given the new suit, though it hadn't mattered in his fight with the Vulture; He hadn't needed it, not to mention that Stark hadn't listened to him...

 

Looking at the scene now, he could feel the naivety coming from his past self in waves, mindlessly trusting the man who's calculating gaze was then disguised as mildly exasperated endearment.

 

It faded, Peter's vision clearing.

When the vision faded, he was unnerved that there was once again _nothing_ \- No Thanos, no flashes of memory, just a return to the expanse of indescribable blank. Peter turned his head, trying desperately to get his bearings but failing miserably, each inch of his surroundings an identical, indescribable vacuum.

 

“Our philosophies are more similar than you realise. Like you, I could not stand by and watch people suffer.”

 

Debating if it was morally _right_ couldn't undo what was done – so what was Thanos' plan now? To rule the shattered remains of a universe he claimed would be so _grateful_ -

 

“If they need a guiding hand, so be it. I am willing to take up that mantle if necessary.”

 

_A guiding hand._

Strangely delicate words to describe the hand that caused the catastrophe the people needed leading through.

 

“I granted the universe a mercy, an opportunity to rebuild itself into something better – My actions giving every living being a chance at salvation... You have that second chance as well.”

 

 

There was no question that there was no going back to the way life used to be. No matter what happened, things were well beyond reversible.

_Would he even want things to be the same, even if it were possible?_

If Thanos was correct about only one thing, it was definitely that he had been blind before. The way Stark had treated him in the cell... it was irrefutable proof. In a twisted way, he found himself being almost _thankful._ It had been eye opening, the truth being a painful rush – a veil that had been lifted which, although still stung, had needed to be torn off.

 

_If Thanos was right about that, maybe he shouldn't reject his logic straight away._

The voice that formed the thought wasn't quite his own – or was it? It held a dark tone, riddled with spots of melancholy but an underlying layer of a deeper understanding.

 

As if reflexively, he hit back at the unknown – There was no good reason for killing, _ever._ At this stage, it was the last certainty he clung to like a lifeline.

 

_Maybe it was for the best._

 

How could he even think that? All those people's lives cut short in their tracks-

 

_Cut short so the remainder can live fuller ones._

 

Deep within him, the doubt that had been steadily increasing now latched onto the statements.

 

“You have a strong heart, boy.” There was a lengthy pause, so long that Peter's pulse jumped in fear at the thought of being _alone_ again, only to be alleviated when Thanos continued.

 

“Gamora was the same.”

 

Amid the darkness, a blot of colour unfurled like ink in water; it grew, slowly gaining in momentum as a pair of figures formed before his eyes.

The first was all-too familiar, Thanos' monolithic silhouette seared into his memory – but the second was smaller in stature, with green skin and a fierce strength that shone through the dark eyes that were fixed on Thanos'; Through them Peter could sense a reverence, an admiration for the one that had raised her. The latter's arm was outstretched, fingers gently raising the woman's chin so that their gazes met – akin to a parent having a heartfelt talk with their child.

 

“Just as you are, she was headstrong, with a force of will that could rival anyone's.”

 

As fast as if he had been struck by a bullet, an almost overwhelming mix of emotions enveloped him – the most prominent being a jarring sense of... loss? The mourning that unsettled him to his core was gone as quickly as it had arrived, although the echoes still remained, clinging to his heart as he continued to watch the memory of Gamora – though she too was slowly fading.

 

A shadow was rising from where she had stood, gradually forming into a semblance of another figure.

 

“Gamora's presence is irreplaceable, but you are certainly a worthy successor.”

 

The shape was slowly gaining clarity, like an artist filling in the details of a painting. It was a person, not quite as tall as it's predecessor, but donning a similarly resilient bearing-

 

His breath hitched in his throat, mind reeling at not quite grasping what he was seeing; before him was _himself_.

A chill ran down his spine as he noticed that, like the voice, this wasn't quite _him_.

This version stood taller, more upright, not in the apprehensive stance that had become Peter's go-to. The enhancements were clear, the intricate metal shining, the skin around the headpiece no longer raw and healing; as he surveyed his copy with a sick fascination, he spotted additional, unfamiliar plates of metal – cresting it's shoulder peeked more silver cybernetics from under a dark suit trimmed with a complex indented pattern.

His mirror image's identical eyes – the only dissimilarity from his own being the calm that encompassed it's expression – were rooted on Thanos, as Gamora's had been.

 _No doubt, no fear._ A serenity that set a pocket of envy growing within him.

_Along with the same look of reverence._

 

He stopped before he lost himself to a downward spiral of just _what_ was planned for him next – when a shadow fell across his vision.

 

Tearing his sight away from his _own_ self-assured gaze, he turned to lock eyes with Thanos instead; He stood like a shield against the light, his expression calculating, but not entirely unkind.

 

_Father._

It was as if Peter's mind had short-circuited, spitting out the word involuntarily.

A crashing wave of golden light assaulted him once again, throwing him off kilter just as he was coming to terms with the word now filling his head like a mantra.

 

_Father._

 

No, no – he knew what was going on, what Thanos was trying to do-

 

_Father._

 

Peter may have been uncertain about literally everything else, but he recognised the wrongness that followed in the title's wake.

A title that didn't apply to _Thanos_ of all people.

Father was a name for... Several faces flurried through his memories, blurred like murky reflections on a fogged window.

Once, he wasn't sure how long ago now, Stark had held it as a sort of honorary title – however misplaced it had been. The other faces were hazier, more difficult to discern. There were faint echoes of warm smiles and a deep scar within him no doubt left there by the wounds of loss, but no faces or names surfaced.

 

He was sure he was going to hyperventilate – why couldn't he remember..

Even the silhouettes were becoming harder to cling to; he helplessly tried to commit whatever he could to memory, but the more detail he tried to decipher, the faster they faded until they were engulfed by the shimmering yellow light.

 _Remember, remember, remember- he_ had _to, it was all he had left-_

 

Curling in on himself, he squeezed his eyes shut.

Not that it would do any good – there were no barriers he could hope to put up that would protect him – but there must have been a minuscule, childish part of him that wished that if he closed his eyes then the monsters wouldn't be real, that he could block out what was happening with a simple action.

 

So softly that he couldn't quite grasp what was happening, Peter felt the brush of a hand by his face, unnoticed tears running down his cheeks in a ceaseless flow. He _knew_ he should flinch away, to not give in to... _whatever_ was happening – but his primal instinct had been muted, numbed, or outright eliminated, to an extent that he couldn't help but lean into the touch.

_In this place – in all this uncertainty – it was the only anchor he could bring himself to hold on to._

He just wanted things to make sense again. For the first time in what felt like eons, his thoughts were slowing down – reaching a kind of respite, releasing a profuse sense of release from his muddled thinking, of not knowing what to believe.

 

“Your path is clear for the first time in your life.”

 

Thanos' measured voice was closer now, and Peter's eyes flickered open.

His copy was gone without a trace, but the Titan still remained – the target of his attention shifted once again, this time to Peter himself.

 

He wanted to be unsettled by the fact that he found himself now filling the space that Gamora's image had stood – the scene a re-creation, down to the paternal hand under Peter's chin keeping their gaze connected – but only felt a desensitized _inevitability._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all enjoyed!!  
> Was gonna post this earlier but didn't think it was good enough, so decided to give it an extra few days  
> As much as I want to give y'all the chapters asap, I figure it's worth the extra time cos you guys deserve the best it can be xx  
> later skaters


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!! This is the tony chapter I promised last time, and thanks for the lovely responses to the previous chapter xx 
> 
> This one is a bit of a mess but tbh I needed to get this one out to progress the story - the next one will be better, promise! (and wont take as long :P ) 
> 
> also hope y’all are enjoying disney+ cos it’s not out til March here in the uk and I wanna scream

Tony had taken the stairs two at a time, his heart beating equally as fast, and only vaguely aware of Nebula’s presence beside him. They had arrived at the hangar within fifteen minutes, and since then he couldn't bring himself to stand still,  apprehensively pacing back and forth across a small stretch of the bay – if his agitation  was irritating the group that had answered the call, they were wise enough to not mention anything.

There were still a few absent, but he’d managed to gather a few of his teammates on their way downstairs - Natasha and Steve had been talking in hushed tones near the mess hall, voices low despite the compound being almost completely empty;  _ old spy habits die hard, he guessed  _ \- and their number had grown again when they ran into Rhodey a few minutes later when he was investigating the commotion. 

Since the  _ ‘snap’ _ \- as it had now been dubbed - he’d noticed that, even given the vast layout of the base, they had all subconsciously kept as a group. Some even moved rooms to be closer to each other, with only Nebula and Rocket keeping their distance - though Tony had noticed that they had banded together somewhat, bonding as only two outsiders could. 

_ It was probably to protect the remnants of what they had left.  _   
  


After such a long time spent watching everyone  moping around the compound doing  _ nothing _ , the fact that Carol was taking action seemed almost unreal. 

Her joining the team was almost too good to be true; A previously unheard of space-warrior with a claimed association with Nick Fury - himself one of the most  shifty people Tony had ever met - who just happened to be on their side. 

The rational part of him advocated for caution, but it was  quickly overruled. 

_ What choice did he have?  _

Any other time he would have sided with it, his back having more knives in it than he could count - but this was the only step forward he could see. If she had ulterior motives, it was a risk he was willing to take. He’d have to deal with potential betrayal later. 

He'd already left Peter too long. 

 

Just as he was thinking that perhaps their goal of half an hour had been a little ambitious, Carol strode into the hangar with several stragglers in tow; An anxious looking Bruce almost jogged to keep up with her pace, while Natasha kept up easily at a carefully measured distance. 

_ Well, at least one of them was being cautious.  _

Natasha’s expression was professional, unchanging - not revealing anything until she had a grasp on the situation and knew how to proceed. Like Tony, he guessed she was  using her own version of ‘autopilot’, falling back on years of training to carry her through her physical and emotional exhaustion. From the looks of things, she was coping a lot better than he was. 

Leading the newcomers, Carol came to a halt in front of them - still in her leather jacket, though her hair now slightly windswept and pushed away from her face. She surveyed the group and if she was disappointed by the turnout, it was impossible to tell. 

_ A  _ _ pathetically _ _ small number of them left, but it would have  _ _ to do.  _

“Right, who’s coming?” Her voice wasn’t jovial by any means, but held an assertive confidence that broke whatever silent trance the group was stuck in. They were all slightly taken aback by her directness, but soon took it in stride. 

Steve was the next to speak, arms folded across his chest but still mastering a look of not-so-subtle incredulity. 

“ _ Now? _ You want to leave  _ now? _ ” 

She blinked back, unphased. 

“Yeah. We’ve got a ship, we’ve got an enemy - What exactly are we waiting for, Captain? For Thanos to come to us?” 

Tony was liking her more and more by the minute. 

“Well  _ Captain _ , we’re still recovering from the last time we were beaten into the dirt,” Steve met her dead in the eyes, “We’re even more outgunned now, and have no chance of-” 

“You didn’t have  _ me _ last time.” 

This prompted another silence, Steve and Natasha sharing a look that masked an entire conversation. He tilted his head slightly - she shrugged her shoulders, twitched an eyebrow. 

Part of Tony wanted to shake some sense into them, but resorted to stepping forward into the foray and remaining a little more subdued. 

“We  _ need _ to take the fight to Thanos,  Steve .”

The use of his first name changed his expression infinitesimally, but was nonetheless noticeable. 

“It’s already been too long, we need to go  _ now. _ What do we gain from waiting? It’s been long enough.”    
  


“How do we know if Thanos has even kept Peter alive?” Natasha’s query rang across the room, and Tony internally cursed the fact that his words had revealed his main priority. 

It was brusque,  the words stinging like knives at the thought \- and Tony was involuntarily  thrown back into the day he’d rather forget . 

 

* * *

 

_ The loose dust drifting around them swirled with every haggard breath he took, and each drop of his blood that hit the floor causing another small cloud of it to join it’s fellows.  _

_ Strange had already been incapacitated, and his words that had sealed their fate seemingly echoing in the near silence.  _

 

_ “Spare his life, and I will give you the stone.”  _

 

_ The disbelief coursing through him was numbing - either that, or  _ _ the more logical solution was that  _ _ he was mercifully going into shock from blood loss.  _

 

_ “One to go.”  _

 

_ Whilst he still had most of his wits about him, Tony cast his eyes to the horizon. He’d have to take Thanos’ word for it that the planet had used to be beautiful - as now all that remained was a burnt, hostile landscape. Besides the still-crumbling spaceship and the remnants of meteors still smoldering in their craters, he could spot no movement; Peter had gone chasing after the Guardians, who had been thrown in all directions in the low gravity, but there had been no sign of any of them since-  _

 

_ A red and gold blur struck him from the side with the force of a car, though considerably more delicately handled. Rolling across the debris in the protective cage formed by the Iron Spider legs, Tony tensed and stayed as still as he could muster until they came to a halt, wincing through the pain shooting through his abdomen.  _

 

_ “M-Mr Stark, are you alright?”  _

 

_ An icy grip crept over his heart.  _

 

_ "Kid... Go- get out of here, now-" following the plea, a cough crawled up his throat and brought the now familiar coppery taste of blood onto his tongue.  _

 

_ It was too late. Thanos’ attention had shifted from the stone, which was now glimmering in its place on the gauntlet amongst its brethren, to the pair of them now huddled on the floor a few meters away.  _

 

_ Their gazes locked, Tony tearing his away from Thanos’ colossal shadow now heading in their direction. Peter’s hand was still on his shoulder, supporting his mentor’s balance even as he knelt almost incapacitated on the floor.  _

_ The kid’s eyes still held the same warmth they always did, although slightly diluted with adrenaline and fear - his earnestness shining at the forefront, fighting the fatigue that no doubt plagued him as much as it did Tony.  _

 

_ Fuck, he was so young.  _

 

_ He’d noticed before - obviously - but it had never been so evident than seeing his face in the orange sunset of Titan, bloodstained and alert for danger.  _

 

_ Too young to die on a desolate planet light-years away from home _ _.  _

_ He shouldn’t even  _ be here _ ; Tony should have told him to get back on the bus, not to go chasing after aliens and wizards- _

 

_ Within moments, Peter turned away towards the threat -  _ _ becoming a barrier, shielding him with his own body _ _.  _

  
  


_ He wished more than anything that he hadn’t seen the look on Thanos’ face.  _

_ The intense anger and wrath of the battle had been replaced with what could only be described as a piercing scrutiny. His advance had paused, looking Peter up-and-down as if he was viewing him properly for the first time.  _

_ Studying him,  _ inspecting _ him, observing him like some kind of object of curiosity.  _

 

_ It made his stomach churn, fear and foreboding scratching at his insides as he attempted to raise himself to his feet again, only to be thwarted and let out a shuddering gasp when the sharp burning that he’d tried to ignore spread rapidly from his wound, igniting his body in agony and keeping him resolutely  _ _ in place _ _. Vision still blurred and swimming, he barely caught the fight that ensued. Blinking away the pain just in time to see Peter slammed into the ground, pinned by a strong hand securing his neck.  _

 

_ “Think of this as a trade, Stark. You killed one of my children, now I’m taking yours.” _

 

_ He wasn’t aware of what he yelled - possibly some wordless cry of fury, despair, hopelessness, as the blue light eclipsed the pair, blinking them out of sight.  _

 

* * *

 

The sickening, calculating look in the Titan’s eyes had left more of a scar in him than the blade had. 

 

“No, that bastard definitely wanted him  _ alive _ .” 

 

This didn’t satiate Natasha’s scepticism - her expression one of delivering the blunt truth to someone strongly in denial - but as soon as she opened her mouth to speak, another voice interjected. 

 

“Thanos wouldn’t let the boy’s power go to waste.” 

 

Nebula’s  scratchy tone brought all their stares to her shadowed corner where she was leaning against a wall, arms crossed and scanning them all individually with her inky black pupils. 

 

“He’s alive.” 

 

Relieved that he had someone on his side - though slightly irritated that Natasha didn’t just take his word for it - he raised his eyebrows at her, gesturing towards Nebula as if indicating  ‘ _ See? Proof! _ _ ’  _

More infuriating silence followed, but he swallowed his impatience with great difficulty. If he lost control now, he had a suspicion that Steve would never agree. The seconds ticked by as they watched Steve deliberate, eyebrows drawn low and jaw clenched and tense.

After what felt like a lifetime, he nodded. 

 

* * *

 

Proceedings sped up considerably from then on; Soon enough, lists of supplies were compiled along with divvying up the ship into assigned sections. Though ordinarily able to comfortably house six people, the ship was rather unfit for holding seven of them - Carol planning on splitting off shortly into the journey -  _ along with _ all of their luggage.  Despite apparently being an average-sized basic spacecraft, it didn’t leave a great deal of room. 

Rocket, although under the guise of being helpful, was more of a spanner in the works. 

“I'm not leaving any of you morons alone with my ship,  _ especially _ not after what you did to it last time.” 

He’d refused to vacate his room, and could frequently be seen gathering miscellaneous items that were strewn amongst the ship - among them being a stray pair of headphones, a couple of sharp but intricate knives, and a small vacant plant pot - before retreating back to his quarters. 

The Benatar was laden with crates and boxes; hastily thrown together ready-bags were crammed into the few cupboards that dotted the walls, along with whatever rations they could find – though they were assured by Rocket that they'd be able to pick up supplies somewhere in another system. 

 

Tony had commandeered a compact space towards the ship's rear, setting up a makeshift workshop table laden with whatever he could get his hands on from the lab - a litany of toolboxes, several containers teeming with nanotech, along with as many Suits he could cram into boxes and shove in the cupboards. It wasn’t a  _ lot  _ of room, but it would have to do. 

The final box he’d brought sat rested on the table, having not quite mustered up the willpower to pack it away. He ran his fingers along the cool metal until they hit the case’s clasps, which he flicked open - letting the automatic hinges slowly raise the lid. 

A familiar mask stared back at him from inside. The pointed lenses of the Spiderman suit gazing out, the pointed lenses dormant and emotionless. 

 

_ “I can see much better in these than the last one, Mr Stark.”  _

_ He looked over the expanse of the lab, stifling a smile at seeing Peter spinning absent-mindedly on a stool with one of the prototype masks pulled halfway over his face, the lenses contracted, the kid’s eyes narrowed as he tested the range, and a slice of pizza half-way to his mouth.  _

_ Tony held the second prototype in his hands, a miniscule soldering iron tweaking the tiny circuits powering the goggles.  _

_ “Easier to focus?”  _

_ It had been an issue for a long time - heightened senses were immeasurably useful, but none of the previous prevention methods were quite good enough any more.  _

_ “Yeah, loads. Thanks!”  _

 

The familiar feeling of regret made its presence known. 

It was his fault Peter was in this mess. He’d said himself that he wanted to stay the ‘Friendly Neighbourhood Spiderman’ for as long as he could. It was always something he’d admired about the kid. Being a cultural icon like Iron Man, as much as Tony  _ tried _ to help people using his status, was certainly a step away from looking after the ‘normal people’. 

  
Despite himself, he felt selfishly glad that he could at least help Peter in some regard; In retrospect, he had been utterly unequipped to be a mentor - though there wasn’t exactly a ‘how to raise your teenage superhero’ handbook on sale - and knew, deep down, that he was a demonstrably bad role model. 

_ It was his fault. _

He firmly pushed the lid shut, before placing it in a small cubby under the worktable - out of the way, but easy to get to. 

_ Peter would need it when they found him.  _

A sharp knocking at the door made him turn to face Carol, her hair now restrained with a tie in a small ponytail to keep the flecks out of her face. 

“Ready?” 

Her simple query hit him harder than he thought it would, and he took a breath - feeling as if it was the first inhalation of clear air since Titan. The weight on his shoulders wasn’t  _ gone _ , in fact he reckoned it would never leave him completely, but it felt a fraction lighter as he joined her by the doorway. 

“About time, let’s go.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience - I really hope this doesn’t seem like I’m recycling old chapters, I just really wanted to show how Tony felt during the events on Titan, and thought it was different enough from Peter’s point of view to warrant exploring 
> 
> I’ve also started doin a lil sketch for this fic that I’ll be posting to the tumblr soon:  
> https://papersailsfanfic.tumblr.com/ 
> 
> Happy thanksgiving to those that celebrate it!!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heh so I still suck at posting - basically I write when I have free time, which is becoming less and less recently - Your patience is incredible, and y’all are great so this is like double the usual length 
> 
> Please be aware that I’ve updated the tags - just wanted to warn people xx 
> 
> RIGHT last chapter kinda felt like a filler to get from step A to B, but now Tony and co. are off, things can actually start happening

Nebula knew that they were  grievously unprepared. 

The ship was unavoidably cramped, as they all knew it would be, but it didn’t bother her. She’d been in exceedingly worse situations, so she barely batted an eyelid at having a little less legroom than usual. 

At their departure, there had been a small amount of conversation - mainly the Terrans talking amongst themselves and discussing flimsy plans, though it was difficult to make strong foundations when they were hurling themselves into the unknown. 

They were laughably unequipped, relying on sheer determination to see them through.  _ She’d survived so far by being obstinate too - so perhaps they had a miniscule chance after all.  _

Of course she’d heard of the renegade Starforce soldier - Ronan would bitterly mention her on occasion, though she cared little for his personal vendettas at the time. She didn’t trust Carol by any means - in fact she was a little relieved when she split from the group early into the journey - and although her aid wouldn’t exactly balance the scales in their favour, their odds were now marginally above zero. 

Apprehension hung in the air like an electric field. 

Stark himself had been flicking through transmissions once he’d figured out how the long-range radio worked - and she could sense that his constant fidgeting unsettled the rest of the crew, all of them being so on-edge regardless. 

The fox had taken the mantle of ship captain, seemingly revelling in being one of the only  people  that could fly it - even if there were times he looked to the copilot’s chair, as if expecting anyone other than strangers there. 

She was always surprised at some human’s adaptability. Both Rogers and Rhodes were apparently soldiers by nature, slipping back into old habits formed by lengthy time in Earth’s military. Along with them, the red haired woman had settled into the cramped quarters with equal amounts of ease, face stoic with no sign of discomfort - only an admirable air of determination to see the mission through to its end. 

Nebula made a mental note to learn her name. 

Names had not been particularly important to her under Thanos’ rule - she knew what she needed to know to do what he wanted. Gamora and the Guardians had been the ones to fixate on identities, and it hadn’t been long until she had realised that she knew each of theirs. 

_ Change took time, but it was possible.  _

She had shocked herself with how much she’d been contributing to the group effort - her information about Thanos being a valuable commodity; dredging up any possible locations from deep within her memory banks, Nebula shared all she could - along with people to contact who may know more, but there was no guarantee that any of them had survived. 

_ Thanos had completed his mission. What was his next goal?  _

A familiar, raging fury rose in her core - after all the years of torture, of Thanos tearing her apart both physically and mentally - her  knowledge of him was coming up aggravatingly short. 

He knew everything about her, being responsible for what she had become - moulding her into a killing machine through years of degradation and manipulation… Yet she didn’t know what he had planned for  _ after _ . She had her guesses, of course - knowing him, he’d want to revel in the universe he ‘saved’, painting himself as some merciful messiah. 

She kept searching her memory, determined to find something she’d missed - some trace of a plan. 

What surprised her most however, was that the Avengers seemed to also value her opinion as well as her information - as the Guardians had.    
  
Even when her and Stark had been isolated on that very same ship months before, he had still cared about her welfare. His mind no-doubt fixed on Peter Parker, he had still found the time to help her. 

She absent-mindedly brought a hand up to her shoulder, to the circuitry Stark had helped repair. 

_ A good man. _

When he spoke of the boy, pain and guilt laced every word - but she knew that, no matter who told Tony that he wasn’t to blame, he’d never believe it. 

Empathy had abandoned her a long time ago - it was deemed an unnecessary impediment, and would only  hold her back \- but she was perturbed at a pull in her chest at the thought of Stark’s boy. 

He would grow to disregard names too, committing to memory only what the Titan showed him. 

There was no doubt that he would be irrecoverably changed, but Stark remained stubbornly oblivious. He’d heard her warnings, and he’d might even consider himself  _ prepared _ for the eventuality - but she knew he didn’t honestly believe it. 

She just hoped he would accept the truth before it got them all killed. 

 

* * *

 

Peter couldn’t determine what exactly had changed since his latest ‘ _ lesson _ ’, only that everything seemed tinged with a different light; Perhaps it was his brain’s attempt to cope, or the sign of finally waking up. 

Whatever reason it was, he pushed the options to the back of his mind. He was  _ done  _ with being confused, with his mind scrambling to make sense of what he thought he knew only for the foundations to crumble under him - the only certain, unchangeable thing being a bitter acceptance that he’d finally learned to  swallow . 

They’d fallen back into the routine - wake from a restless sleep, be taken to the  training pit , fight the Outriders that threw themselves at him, then return to the cell. 

Peter had improved immensely since his first encounter with the monsters, his alarmed struggles to stay alive had  evolved into a strategic fight; Though he hated to admit it, the cybernetic enhancements  _ did help _ . If he could ignore the crawling discomfort caused by seeing the metal embedded into his skin, they gave him an edge that meant he could hold his own in a scrap. 

 

He braced himself as he waited for the door at the far side of the arena to open. 

_ If there were more than three he’d have to guard himself from all sides, it was easy to get overwhelmed if they formed a group - he could try to separate them, it sort of worked last time…  _

 

But the familiar mess of claws and too-many-arms was nowhere to be seen. Regardless, Peter refused to let his guard down - he could still hear the cacophony of growls and snarls in the distance, and he’d learnt quickly that anything new meant nothing good whatsoever. 

To his surprise he heard the rustle of movement towards the raised edge of the pit, and he instinctively  skirted back - there was no telling what twist would be put on the training today, he had to be ready for anything. 

 

Thanos had descended to the  battleground , vacating his spot as the overseer looking down on the fight. 

_ Just as Peter was getting used to the status quo, the rug had been pulled out from under him again. _

 

“You’ve done well so far - but you’re in need of something more challenging.” 

 

He remained stationary, frozen in his unsurety until Thanos gestured, the door starting it’s slow  crawl open . Before, his questions would have been boiling over with no restraint, but had grown to know better. 

Clenching his jaw, he stayed silent. All he could hope to do was brace himself for whatever came next. 

_ Perhaps something like the monster Stark fought before they boarded the space-donut, or maybe one of those giant flying worm things that dotted the sky over the battle of New York…  _

What he didn’t expect was a trembling figure stumbling from the darkness. 

As if dragged by an invisible yoke, the person was pulled across the length of the arena until they came to a halt in front of them, skittering back a few steps as soon as they regained a modicum of control. 

 

It was a man, an alien but not of any he recognised - though that wasn’t saying much, as he’d only encountered a few and was nowhere near able to name the species . 

With blue skin and black hair, the stranger glared at them through equally dark eyes which were alight with a fire stoked by fear and anger. Ragged breaths blew from his nostrils like a furious buffalo, mouth in a tight line and whole body shaking with barely contained agitation. 

 

_ It was a horrible reflection of the fire that had been extinguished in himself _ _.  _

 

He had to look away. 

Wracking his mind for  _ anything _ he could do, he drew a complete blank. Like him, the man was in a hopeless situation, facing an enemy that could literally bend reality around them. 

_ Not much that anger can do against a cosmic power stone.  _

Turning to Thanos, he waited for an explanation. 

 

“He was a warrior - his people sending their best to try and undo what needed fixing.” 

 

_ He’d been sent here… that meant people were still trying to stop Thanos, so perhaps he still had a chance-  _

Peter halted the hopeful voice in his mind - though he thought it had gone for good, having not heard it for quite a while. 

 

“This is a chance to test your mettle, to face a more intelligent adversary.” 

 

Peter balked; He wanted to tell the man that he wouldn’t, to clearly assure him that they were on the same side - but a force beyond his reckoning halted the words as they were formed. His only option was to try and communicate the message with his eyes, hoping that his desperate, panicked stare would work. 

 

By the way the stranger’s eyes bore into his, it was certain that there was no understanding. 

_ All he could see was a spectating protege. A threat.  _

 

Thanos strode to a place near the edge of the fighting arena, the stones alight with the power of keeping the warrior restrained. Disconcertingly, his gaze never left Peter’s. 

 

“Prove yourself.” 

 

The gem’s light dimmed, giving him only about a second to brace himself before being unceremoniously tackled to the floor. Working from pure instinct, he rolled backwards using their momentum, evading the strong arms attempting to hold him down. Peter regained his footing easily, adopting a tense stance in return. 

 

His opponent seemed much larger now he was hostile - what he had taken to be a slim body was much more muscular than he thought, holding strength built up from apparent years of training. He had found his feet too, and had already begun another charge; The punch came strong and fast, and Peter narrowly avoided a broken nose as he backed away. 

As much as he tried, he couldn’t bring himself to say anything - and the warrior seemed unwilling to talk, raking at him with surprisingly long fingernails. 

 

Not knowing what else to do, Peter continued his retreat - hoping that it would buy him enough time for his unwillingness to register. 

 

_ If words wouldn’t work, actions would have to be enough.  _

All he had to do was fend off attacks until he caught on to the fact that he wasn’t retaliating. 

His mind was reeling with the thought of having a potential ally, the hopeful voice surfacing once more.  _ If he could only get him to understand-  _

 

The warrior had apparently grown tired of the chase and decided to rush him, deftly ignoring Peter’s attempts to block. It worked as it had before - his back hitting the unyielding ground and stealing the air from his lungs. Gasping for breath but still on his guard, he threw his arms up, causing a blockade between him and his opposition. Bearing down upon him, the man used his full strength to draw as close as he could - hand grasping, looking for a hold around Peter’s neck. 

 

The dark eyes, so close and shining with exertion that he could see his own reflection in them, narrowed with suspicion. Peter held his ground, holding his opponent away, but still refusing to retaliate whatsoever. His heart leapt as it apparently sunk in - only to fall once more when the gaze flicked to target Thanos. 

_ He couldn’t be serious- there was no way he’d survive a direct attack from Thanos, especially with the gauntlet at the ready. The man hadn’t witnessed what it was capable of, he’d die for sure-  _

 

There was a silent moment where he prayed that he’d interpreted wrong, that the silent warrior would turn his attention back and the fight would start again - but it ended when Peter was pushed harshly into the ground, the man using the momentum to engage full-pelt into a sprint towards their captor. 

 

“ _ No! _ ” 

 

The word tore itself forcefully from Peter’s throat as he rolled to his feet, body still aching from the onslaught. He sped forwards, intercepting the man as he lunged towards where the Titan stood. His enhanced speed bested the man’s, and he was able to catch up, grasping him around the waist and bringing them both careening to the floor in a mirror of how the fight began. 

 

A terrible crack echoed around the chamber. 

 

None of them moved, even time had slowed to a standstill as his mind tried to comprehend what happened; he wanted to spring to his feet again, ready to stop a second attempt - but he was eerily transfixed by the man’s body. It slowly dawned on him that it remained unmoving. 

 

_ No.  _

_ No, no, no, no, no-  _

 

He barely registered the blood on the ground seeping through his suit as he rushed to kneel beside the man. 

Carefully lifting his head, his breath caught in a ragged gasp as he saw the point of impact. The cold metal floor had broken the fall, cracking a delicate skull that wasn’t meant to withstand being pushed at high speed. His strength… 

 

_ The man was dead.  _

_ He had killed him.  _

 

Peter didn’t think he’d had any grief left until a fresh wave of it crashed down upon him. Glassy eyes still reflected him, now an image of him covered in the blood that seeped in a gradual pool around the warrior like a grotesque halo. 

Unlike many of the times before when a metaphorical rug had been pulled from beneath him, Peter didn’t tremble. He didn’t speak. He didn’t even move. 

 

The eyes were still staring, and he wanted more than anything for them to twitch - for the fire to ignite again. 

He would have stayed there indefinitely if not for the large hand that settled upon his shoulder. 

 

“You did well - not many can withstand a soldier of that caliber.” 

 

There was a sick twisting in Peter’s gut - which he had grown used to over time - but was unexpectedly followed by a whisper of  _ warmth _ . He curled in on himself, his head in his hands as if he could put a stop to the turmoil - all the while not able to drag himself away from the contact of the hand. 

 

“Your loyalty will not go unrewarded , boy.” 

 

Peter’s sluggish thoughts stopped in their tracks entirely.  _ Loyalty? _

The realisation hit him much later than it would ordinarily. He’d pushed him out of Thanos’ path - not for the Titan’s safety, but in an attempt to save the man… 

 

_ Was that really why he’d done it, though?  _

 

The voice - different from the hopeful tone that was now dreadfully silent again - snaked into his dormant mind. Peter allowed himself to be led away, leaving a trail of bloody footprints in their wake - only tearing his eyes from the body when he was forced to turn around. 

 

_ He knew deep down that the man would have died anyway - who had he really been protecting?  _

 

* * *

 

Tony’s hands worked almost autonomously over the  circuit boards in his hands, trying to ignore the way his weakened fingers shook. Whatever spare tech he could find was scattered around him, even the  decimated scrap that he’d salvaged from the battle; The  gauntlet restraint had  _ technically  _ worked, but needed to be a hell of a lot stronger now that there were more Infinity Stones in play. 

They barely managed to restrain him before - with  Mantis’ help arguably being the deciding factor - so they definitely needed to up their game. 

Saying goodbye to Pepper had been guilt-ridden and  painful , but also mercifully brief. Neither one of them wanted to fight over his decision, knowing that it wasn’t even a  _ choice _ , but something he  _ needed _ to do. 

She was a pillar of strength, as always \- it was something he’d always loved about her.  

They’d parted - no audible goodbyes, only whispered promises to come home in one piece. 

Promises they both knew might not be kept. 

He descended upon the metal once more. Throwing himself into the work being the only thing keeping unwanted thoughts out, albeit temporarily. 

More than anything, he loathed being out of his element, and flying in the vast unknown of space -  _ again  _ \- was as far from his comfort zone he could get. None of them - except maybe the spacefarers - were in their ‘element’ after all. They had no idea what the galaxy had in store, or how to go about finding Thanos and Peter. 

He still considered Rocket somewhat of a loose cannon. They had become accustomed to the Raccoon’s antics, but he was certainly still crippled by the loss of his team - and there was no guarantee he wouldn’t shoot off the rails like Quill on Titan. 

There was an underlying bitterness within him that he tried to quash, knowing that if it wasn’t for Quill, it would have all gone  smoothly … 

_ Not the time.  _

Hell, if by some miracle they succeeded, he’d be able to take it up with Quill face-to-face. 

It could wait until then. 

They had all  thrown themselves into whatever work they could, as limited as  they were. He’d latched on Bruce’s idea of tracking the gauntlet’s radiation signature; Though the topic wasn’t especially his forte, their combined strengths would yield them  _ some kind _ of result. Hopefully. 

When he’d heard that the Hulk was still a no-show, his heart involuntarily fell into the swirling void of anxiety within him. As an individual, Bruce was immeasurably useful in his own right - they couldn’t have wished for a  better science-guy , but  Big Green would have helped balance the playing field. 

Despite their situation, Tony couldn’t help but  reflect ; In comparison to their first meeting - where Bruce had been a tightly drawn bow that would spring at any moment, unpredictably releasing destruction - now he wasn’t exactly relaxed, but certainly  more at ease , seemingly more comfortable in his own skin. The  couple years away had done him good in the long run - and he wished he had the time and brainpower to uncover the full story. 

_ Again, not the time.  _

The man in question ran a hand through his hair,  which Tony noticed was tinged with a little more grey, and  leaned back in his chair with a  tired exhalation. 

Progress had been arduously slow, their time taken up mainly by Bruce producing pages and pages of calculations; Hasty notes written in scribbled, cramped handwriting that crowded each other - and even Tony, who was undoubtedly the second-most knowledgeable regarding radiation, was having trouble keeping up. 

Though that also may have been due to the migraine that had been spreading across his brain like algae creeping its way across the surface of a pond. 

“Y’know, you should get some sleep.” 

Tony rolled his eyes theatrically - though both knew it was a poor attempt at his usual, plucky attitude. He was stunned when Bruce put his pen down, shooting him an exasperated look. 

Rhodey, who had been sitting in a corner of the small rec room dismantling and reassembling various weapons, decided to speak up. 

“He’s right, Tones. What’s your excuse this time? There’s  _ literally _ nothing we can do at this point.” 

He hated that they were right.    
Staving off his tiredness had been a losing battle long before they left Earth; During ship repair, he’d kipped for an hour-or-so every so often - just enough to keep himself functional. Though the way the room started spinning when he got up too quickly should have been a telling sign. Exhaustion had been a constant companion, it’s presence dragging him down and admittedly dulling his mind. 

He’d been making rookie mistakes, fumbling his words, his considerable brain depleting day by day. 

It was his turn to run his fingers through his hair. 

“Fine. But let me know if-” 

He was cut short by a sputter emitted by the radio, a loud trill. Over time, he had deduced that it meant a new signal was detected - but they hadn’t encountered one this loud before. 

In less than ten seconds, Rocket had entered the room from the pilot’s chair; Hauling himself up onto the table, Bruce hurriedly pulling notes from under his claws, small hands grasped the transmitter and fiddled expertly with the dials. 

Though he still had difficulty deciphering expressions on the  animalistic face , Tony thought he could see more anxiety than usual. 

“Hold on, I’m gonna try and clear it up.” 

Three sequential beeps came from the speakers loud and clear - Rocket pausing, fingers still poised over the switches. 

“If any-- * _ \-- _ -ear this, m-- * _ \--is Peter Parker - I- I need help. F--” _

The voice was like a vice tightening over Tony’s insides; A grim mix of relief and remorse swept through his entire being, chilling him to the core as he tried to decipher what was being said. 

_ “- even know if anyone will---* --I’m on Thanos’ ship, if someone’s-- * -- he still has the stones and I don’t know what he pla---*”  _

The crackling intensified, drowning out the words until they were reduced to a low hiss. 

Peter was  _ alive _ . However, this revelation didn’t spark the joy it should have, it just proved that Tony was right - Thanos wanted Peter alive for a reason. 

“ Get it back- get it back! ” Tony rounded on Rocket, who had already begun to tap and adjust the dials. 

“Relax. That tone at the beginning? That means it’s a recorded message. It’s not  _ live _ , humie - just  kinda recent.” 

_ *--please-*---send this message and location to Earth--- * ---Avengers- Hel- * --Guar-- -they--*  _

It dissolved into nothing. 

The distant hum of static remained, but all of them stayed stationary in the cramped rec room; Tony knew all their eyes were on him, but that was the least of his concerns. 

“We’ve got to track that signal.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YEaH PeTER’S MESSAgE WAS SUCCESSFUL :D 
> 
> I have been waiting for ages for the throwback - we’ve still got a long way to go, but I have been SO HYPED to get to this point


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I’m alive! Things are heating up my dudes 
> 
> I’ve just finished moving house, so things are a bit hectic - so sorry there was such a big gap! Also had to get my laptop repaired, I am SO GLAD I starting doing fic stuff on google docs   
> If you’re a fic writer, I would 100% recommend making an online backup y’all 
> 
> Enjoy!

“Could be a trick, right?” At Tony’s bewildered expression, Bruce hurriedly clarified, “I mean, he knows Peter would be the perfect bait… and when better to finish us off than when we’re at our weakest?” 

 

“What would Thanos need to trick us for? He’s already  _ won _ .” Rhodey’s words - though being the truth - still stung like irritating the scab of a recent wound. 

 

“ _ No. _ ” Tony’s voice was quiet, but nonetheless halted the others’ rebukes. “No, this was Peter - he’s smart, there’s no surprise he figured out a way to send a message.” 

 

The four of them were still situated in the small rec room, none having moved except Rocket, who had remained atop the table and was fiddling with the radio - which now only emmitted garbled static with the ghost of a voice layered deep beneath. 

 

“I  _ told _ Quill that we needed to get better portable long-range scanners, but  _ nooo… _ ” 

 

The raccoon’s muttered gripe under his breath seemed to be the last sentence Tony’s mind could comprehend. There was only a vague awareness of what was going on around him - Rocket was sniping irritably whilst attaching various cables to the radio, the other Avengers throwing out speculative theories Tony just  _ couldn’t stand hearing _ right at that moment. 

Speculation was a downward spiral that he’d been trying to claw himself out of since Titan - the thoughts adhering to his mind just as the burning dust had clung to his skin. 

 

The world seemed to have become a vignette, his focus centered on Rocket’s claws tinkering with the radio - concentrating on that being the only method of keeping himself together. 

Part of Tony wanted to question the others - asking  _ how long ago was it broadcast? Is Peter… _ But he knew full well that the team knew just as little as he did. 

 

He needed to  _ go. _

 

The all-too-familiar creeping pressure of panic was crawling it’s way across his ribcage until it constricted his chest, breaths coming in ragged shallow gasps. He dragged himself to his feet, hoping that he’d be able to hold himself upright long enough to make it somewhere,  _ anywhere _ else. As always, he’d much rather have a complete breakdown in private. 

 

_ … But when did he ever get what he wished for?  _

 

His knees buckled underneath him almost as soon as he stopped using the table as support. Bruce reached him within moments, ‘doctor mode’ fully active - his concerned gaze assessing him up and down, and he and Rhodey supporting Tony’s weight until he steadied himself. 

 

“I’m fine, I’m  _ fine _ .” 

 

None of them were very convinced, his weak voice barely reassuring himself. 

The headache that had been constant company had upped its bombardment - the increased attack making his vision swim nauseatingly. 

 

Rhodey took the metaphorical reins, steering Tony away from the congregation and down the adjoining corridor - waving off Bruce’s motion to accompany them. 

 

“Right, it’s time for an intervention.” 

 

They continued down the hallway of the ship, moving steadily and carefully as to not exacerbate Tony’s pounding head. 

 

“You. Need. To. Sleep.” 

 

He wanted to retaliate, to be his indignant self, return to the rec room and continue to push - to ‘help’ Rocket trace the radio signal… but unfortunately he knew, at long last, he’d reached the stage that he couldn’t ignore sleep any longer.  _ It was just awful timing. _

 

Along with trying to avoid the dreadful, gnawing feeling that he needed to be doing something productive instead of lying in bed, he was dreading the nightmares. The few times he  _ had _ slept during the last few months, he had reverted back to a Tony Stark that he thought he’d outgrown - a man who was afraid to close his eyes lest he be greeted by the endless void of space, or the vivid image of Pepper falling before being consumed by raging fire, along with whatever other torturous images his brain could drag up from his memories. 

 

“You’ve got to get things straight - all we can do now is pinpoint the coordinates and contact Carol, both of which can be done by the others.” 

  
At several times, Tony tried to interject only to be talked over - a taste of his own medicine, he supposed. 

 

“What you’re going to do, is  _ go the fuck to sleep _ .” 

 

Tony would have chuckled if he could muster the energy.  _ Rhodey had such a way with words, always had done.  _

 

“Out of everything we’ve done, of all the shit that’s happened…” Rhodey exhaled, giving what could have been a weary laugh, “The biggest challenge I’ve faced is getting you to look after  _ yourself _ .” 

 

“It’s my fault he’s there, Rhodey.” 

 

It was unprompted, but had been writhing to get out. 

Tony’s insides twisted at the admission.  _ Good _ . He  _ should  _ feel guilty. He could sense a dispute rising within his friend, so he continued before Rhodey could build an argument. 

 

“All the people who were… they’re gone.” He didn’t need to elaborate on whom he was referring to, the Snap still fresh in all their minds even months later. 

 

“As tragic as that is, there’s no guarantee we can get them back even if by some miracle we manage to get the stones - it’s  _ space magic _ so how the fuck do we know? But what we  _ do _ know - for  _ certain _ \- is that there’s a chance to save Peter. He’s alive, and that’s the definitive fact I’m holding on to.” 

 

Although the dizziness had begun to brush against his consciousness again, he persevered before he lost the ability to make an eloquent statement. 

 

“At this point we need something concrete, not just a vague plan to throw ourselves at Thanos in hopes we can somehow pry the gems off that gauntlet while trying to stay alive long enough to actually  _ use _ them - because god-knows we’re not gonna be getting them off his corpse.” 

 

This brought their albeit already slow pace to an abrupt halt; The reserved patience that had been well-practiced over the years was gone from Rhodey’s face in an instant and replaced by a seriousness saved for the times he  _ really  _ needed Tony to listen - not unfriendly, but a direct and almost stern earnestness. 

 

“Look, it wasn’t  _ you _ that took Peter. It wasn’t  _ you _ who snapped your fingers.” 

 

“If it weren’t for m-” 

 

“-It was  _ Thanos _ .” Rhodey powered through Tony’s rebuttal, knowing from experience that it was sometimes the only way to hammer in his point. 

 

“I know it’s pointless to tell you not to blame yourself, even if it is the truth - but you gotta realise that  _ it’s not helping _ .” Yet another of Tony’s interjections was silenced, his mouth resorting to forming a stony line of indignation. 

 

“You’re not sleeping and barely eating; your genius plan to slowly kill yourself is tipping the scales in that purple asshole’s favour. Yeah, we have your tech, but for any chance of winning we need your  _ mind _ . We’re already out-gunned so you not taking care of yourself is the equivalent to shooting ourselves in the foot.” 

 

_ Fuck. Rhodey was right.  _

 

Tony had been making stupid, rookie errors that made him more of a hinderance than a help. More than once, Bruce had needed to correct several calculations and notes - handled with his usual patience of a saint. Even though radiation was more his expertise than Tony’s, it was a mark of personal pride that he had a base knowledge of every scientific subsection. 

 

If he thought about this logically, breaking it down to the biological science, Tony supposed he could justify sleeping - if only for a little while. The human body wasn’t supposed to run without rest - only able to cope for a few days without debilitating side effects, which was the fact he had been pushing to its limits for the past few  _ months _ . 

 

“Wow, it’s not like you to give me such an ego boost, you must be pretty serious about this.” 

 

It was a very poor attempt at a witty retaliation, but both knew this was the closest Rhodey would get to an admission of victory. 

 

The pair of them continued down the hall, reaching the door that slid open as they approached; behind it lay the cozy bunk room. Illuminated by a softer light, they could see the small, compact beds that lined the walls - they looked relatively comfortable for what they were. For once he was glad to be shorter than average - there didn’t seem to be a lot of room in each cubby. 

 

Rhodey stopped by the door, looking somewhat like a disgruntled parent chaperoning a rebellious child to their room - which Tony would have poked fun at if not for the weight of exhaustion tugging at his consciousness. 

 

Now he’d acknowledged it, the tiredness was relentless; What had been pushed to the back of his mind and building slowly was now unleashing its force in a torrent of fatigue. 

 

After a few assurances that he honestly would try and get some rest, Rhodey departed - promising in turn to chase up the others’ progress on tracking the radio signal and contacting Carol. 

 

Tense, aching muscles eased somewhat as Tony situated himself on the lower bunk, lying back until he was staring at the top’s underside. Someone had littered the enclosed space with juvenile drawings, some with various colours of pen and more that seemed to be dug crudely with a knife. He scanned the illustrations - trying his best to focus on them rather than the rushing stream of emotions weathering his mind. The fear, anger, guilt combined to make an ever-present deluge. 

 

They ranged from stick figures in precarious scenarios to weirdly detailed scenes, mostly consisting of large guns and cartoony explosions, along with a litany of random objects; cassette tapes, arrows with scarlet trails, and even a few childish flowers - these were an echo of the ship’s past inhabitants, and were now relics of the people who had called that place home. 

 

Sleep claimed him just before he could question why one roughly scrawled figure looked strangely like David Hasselhoff. 

 

* * *

  
  


The blood had begun to grow tacky where it clung to Peter’s suit; His hands had remained miraculously clean, the only evidence of what had happened being his shaking fingers and whitened knuckles. Though they were unblemished, he felt as if they were coated - drenched with the fading life of the innocent man, who was still motionless and unfeeling on the cold metal floor. 

 

_ The corpse he’d left behind.  _

 

It was as if his mind was stuck in a blank state, so desperate to extinguish the memory that he was perpetually trapped in a vacant stupor. Unable to come to terms with what he’d  _ done _ , but also wanting more than anything to erase the scene that was cruelly replaying in his mind over and over- 

 

_ Surely it was better for the man to die that way than whatever Thanos would have done? He’d ended his suffering so that he wouldn’t endure worse… it was a mercy, really.  _

 

“You’ve achieved what not many have before,” the sound of Thanos’ eternally measured voice brought Peter out of his reverie, his attention focusing in an instant - all other thoughts momentarily silenced, hanging on every word as the Titan continued. 

 

“... You’ve surprised me.” 

 

A strange feeling overcame him; It was the first warmth he’d felt in a while - not the gradual steady warmth that Stark’s approval had given, but rather this was a vivid flash that flooded through him like a shot of adrenaline. It faded as quickly as it had come, and the absence only brought attention to the vacant fissure left in its wake. 

 

_ Was it pride? _ No. No- he rejected that conclusion outright, this was Thanos he was talking about… It had been an appalling thrill - the fact that he’d affected  _ something _ , after months of being carted from place to place, his only role being to follow instruction. He’d  _ surprised _ him… Made a difference… 

 

“Stark’s influence ran deep within you, and at times I was uncertain that you could overcome it. Think of this as your first victory, Peter.” 

 

_ Peter. Not ‘kid’, ‘underoos’, or any other stupid nickname…  _

 

“Stark took advantage of your commendable need to improve yourself - he stunted it, and used you for his own gain.” 

 

They were both still standing in the fighting arena, Peter’s glassy eyes fixed on the body - as if fascinated by the blood that had just finished pooling like a halo around it’s head. Thanos stood slightly off to the side, calm demeanor unchanged - simply observing. 

 

“You’ve proven your strength - but I still sense your turmoil.” 

 

Thanos knew Peter better than he knew himself. Time and time again, he had convinced himself that he was incapable of killing, but it turned out to be just another piece of the smoldering wreckage that was what he thought he’d known. 

 

More than ever, he was  _ tired. _ Tired of the constant battling inside his head - the opposing sides at war resulting in a confused mess in which absolutely nothing made sense any more, not knowing who to believe and who’s words to follow; he didn’t know which were his own ideas or which had been implanted by Stark, like a weed entangling itself amongst a plant until they were indistinguishable. 

_ It seemed he’d reached the end of his endurance, at long last. He’d had enough.  _

 

“Can you make this  _ stop _ ?” Peter’s words were barely a whisper - more of a despondent prayer that was barely loud enough to hear. 

Thanos was silent. He was expected to continue, so Peter forced himself to comply. 

 

“I… I don’t want to feel like this anymore.” 

 

At some point he’d sunk to the floor again, his knees disturbing the blood but he was far beyond caring. Not even tears would grace him. 

 

“I want something to make sense -  _ please _ , just-” 

 

Words failed him. There was no way to articulate what he was feeling - if he even  _ was  _ feeling anything. 

For the first time, he hoped Thanos knew what he was thinking. 

It was silent for what felt like a long while before he heard footfalls and saw a shadow fall across him. An inviting yellow light shone innocently in his peripheral vision. 

 

“If that’s what you want.” 

 

Finally tearing his eyes away from the corpse, Peter looked directly into Thanos’ eyes - he found himself no longer shaking; his resolve had solidified him, both his hands and breathing now steady. 

 

Peter nodded. 

 

“I don’t want to forget - I  _ need _ to remember what Stark did. I just want…” His sentence faltered again before he could say  _ I just want the pain to stop. _

 

His life had conformed to the unyielding, obsidian metal of the ship - becoming so accustomed to the muted palette that the bright glimmer of the stones was a welcome sight. Thanos approached where Peter knelt, his usual mask of composure giving way to a glint in his eyes - a glimpse of what may have been  _ triumph _ . 

 

The gauntlet came to rest at the crown of his head, adjacent to the slab of metal that was wired into his brain. 

Peter closed his eyes, letting the flash of yellow light engulf him - an echo of a smile gracing his face for the first time in months. 

 

* * *

 

_ The steps of Midtown High were teeming with students within seconds of the bell ringing, the swarm of chattering teens engulfing the parking lot. Some split from their groups and were ready to embark on their walks home, but others lingered - either to wait for one another, to chat, or to not-so-subtly stare at the sleek, clearly expensive car pulled up to the curb.  _

 

_ Peter had balked at the suggestion of Tony arriving decked out in the flashiest of Iron Man suits, which would certainly have put a stop to any classmates doubting the Stark Internship - Tony had only been half-joking.  _

 

_ But at the kid’s insistence, he relented.  _

 

_ Therefore, he’d resorted to using one of his less conspicuous cars, which still unfortunately stuck out like a sore thumb.  _

_ Through the tinted windows, Tony could see Peter talking animatedly with his ‘guy-in-the-chair’ - Ted? Ned? - unsurprised that the pair were amongst the stragglers draining from the school’s double doors at a steady pace.  _

 

_ Usually, it was only Happy that picked him up on ‘internship’ days - and try as he might, Tony couldn’t quite remember why he’d chosen to come with. It wasn’t that he didn’t  _ want _ to get Peter personally, but more that he never had time - plus the novelty would probably wear off if he made it a regular occurrence.  _

 

_ He didn’t mind making the occasional trip to Midtown High however; Plus, seeing Happy’s irate expression at having to endure the throng of gawking High School students was worth the journey from upstate.  _

 

_ Peter’s eyes lit up with recognition as he saw them, and waved a quick goodbye to his friend as he all-but jogged across the sidewalk.  _

 

_ “Mr Stark- Mr Stark you’ll never guess what I made in class today.”  _

 

_ The kid climbed into the car, the door barely closing behind him before the words were tumbling from his mouth - sliding himself into the leather seat opposite Tony with ease, one hand already rummaging in his backpack.  _

 

_ “Hmm, was it something Spider-based that is  _ supposed _ to be kept a secret?”  _

 

_ He nodded, bouncy and energetic as he always was, either choosing to ignore the wisecrack of too distracted to make excuses.  _

 

_ “Well, they were looking at how large charges of energy can alter brain patterns - like radiation and electricity - but I already know all about that, so if I was just sitting there doing nothing it would just be a waste of time, right?”  _

 

_ Tony resisted a smirk, instead raising an eyebrow and waiting for Peter to inevitably continue.  _

_ Sometimes the kid was so much like himself, it was scary.  _

 

_ Peter’s hand finally found what it was seeking in the well-worn backpack, fishing what looked like a repurposed jam jar out from the depths. No matter how many times Tony insisted that Friday could supply him with anything he needed - including sterile, professional grade beakers that they didn’t have to wash at his kitchen sink - Peter still clung on to his DIY approach.  _

 

_ “Take a look.”  _

 

_ The jar was tossed in his direction, which he hardly caught before it struck him in the chest, garnering a sheepish and apologetic look from Peter. Tony held it up so that the light from the window shone through the uneven glass, which caused its contents to glimmer and shine in the afternoon sun.  _

 

_ A large knot of webbing filled the jar, darker in hue than from his usual web-shooters but seemed strong nonetheless. He turned it on its axis, attempting to glimpse what the shining colours were, strung up and tangled amongst the mess.  _

 

_ Blue. Yellow. Red. Purple. Green. Orange.  _

_ Six stones glittering innocently in the light.  _

 

_ He looked back to Peter, mouth already open to ask just what the fuck was going on, but the kid had his hand on the doorhandle, slipping it open and disembarking with an eerie amount of grace. Nothing like his regular lively mannerisms.  _

 

_ With the jar still in hand, Tony tore after him; Reaching the door just before it closed, he tumbled out and prepared to scour the student crowds for Peter - only to discover that he wasn’t at Midtown High as expected.  _

 

_ The darkness was humid, and even in the minimal light he could sense the closeness of the place - claustrophobia crawling at his skin.  _

 

_ Something about it was so fundamentally  _ wrong _ and unsettlingly familiar…  _

 

_ The realisation hit him just as a floodlight blared to life.  _

 

_ Coarse, cragged rock jutted from the walls and ceiling, tinted orange in the waning light from the flickering fire pit dwindling in the centre of the cave.  _

 

_ The Ten Rings’ war camp.  _

 

_ It was just as he remembered it before the destruction; Stark Industries weapons lay on the ground in ranging states of disassembly, dust kicked up from countless hours of work finding its way into the microscopic lines of circuitry and mechanisms - a hammer lay dormant on the anvil with a sheet of metal propped up against it that reflected the dying embers of the fire in its surface, ready to be shaped into something useful.  _

 

_ His eyes were brought back to the floodlight as something moved beneath it. A piece of paper brushed off a nearby work table as if by a phantom wind, fluttering to the floor under the beam of light. Blueprints for something he couldn’t quite make out…  _

 

_ Tentatively, he stepped forward to bring it into view.  _

 

_ On the thin paper were excruciatingly detailed diagrams, breaking down a piece of tech into intricate details. He would have taken it for one of the initial suit plans he’d drafted over his imprisonment there all those years ago - if it weren’t for the recognisable wide lenses adorning the headpiece.  _

_ Spider-man.  _

 

_ “Things like this can change someone.”  _

 

_ Spinning around, the words emerged from the dark along with the figure that voiced them.  _

_ Peter looked just as he did moments ago - but looked bizarre in contrast with their surroundings. The fundamental  _ wrongness  _ had increased tenfold - it was the collision of two worlds that should never have clashed.  _

 

_ Of all the people he’d subject to this place, Peter would be last on the list.  _

 

_ “This made you who you were meant to be, Mr Stark.”  _

 

_ Tony couldn’t find his own voice - muted by some unknown means, only able to absorb what was going on around him.  _

 

_ “Not all people are changed for the better.”  _

  
  


He jerked awake, sitting bolt upright and wished almost immediately that he’d taken more care as the room swam around him - albeit much less than before; He wasn’t sure how long he’d been out, but it seemed likely the minimal amount of sleep had helped him physically recover somewhat. 

 

Surveying the room to see why he’d awoken, he was perturbed to see Rocket standing there, arms crossed across his chest. Part of him wanted to ask how long he’d been standing there, but Rocket beat him to it. 

 

“Do you want the good news or bad news?” 

 

Tony blinked. Still recovering from the dream, it took a moment for the words to sink in. 

 

_ Bad news had been in such high supply lately, surely one more couldn’t make that much of a difference. _

 

“Just tell me.” 

 

Swinging his legs off the bunk, he pulled himself to his feet - hating the way his body felt like it was made of lead. 

 

“Bad: Blondie is still AWOL, we’ve sent out the message using her emergency channel but heard nothing back - for all we know we’re halfway up the creek and she’s just left with the oars.” 

 

“The point, get to it.” Tony intervened, the small amount of sleep apparently having no effect on his patience. 

 

“Right - there’s no way to tell if she knows where we are, but that leads us to the good news…”  

 

Rocket’s face erupted into a devious grin. 

 

“We’ve arrived, and Thanos doesn’t know we’re here either.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is the one we’ve been waiting for… what we’ve been leading towards :P 
> 
> Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever had this much dialogue in a chapter before! Honestly let me know if it works, dialogue hasn’t always been my forte but I tried to get the characterisation as best as I could 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter, I really don’t like how I ended the dream tbh but it was the best I could do   
> Also I haven't forgotten Peter's 'reward', that's coming up next 
> 
> ALSO new chapter will be up within two weeks!! Ya boi getting organised

**Author's Note:**

> yeah, I know this is kind of bad - but it was a lil something I needed to get out my brain, and I'll continue if people are interested :) thanks for reading x


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